FOR THE FOODIES

Yesterday…(yes I’m behind)…Riccardo picked me up in Piazza San Marco. This is out of the Area Pedonale some distance from Piazza della Signoria. It is a short distance from the Galleria dell’Accademia (where the real statue of David is housed). He picked me up on his scooter. It was Friday and there was a bus strike so the traffic was crazier than normal. They require helmets here. So I was facing, not only to a hair-raising experience but helmet-hair to boot. We threaded our way; through traffic at the most extreme angles, around swarms of pedestrians, within inches of bicycles, nose to nose with trucks and, as a short-cut we purposely went the wrong way on a Senso Unico (one way) street. This was his lunch hour and we didn’t have much time. Besides, as he said “I do it all the time.” I rather enjoyed the rush of adrenalin.

The restaurant is the one he always goes to on Friday. He knows everyone and even dates the owner. His charm is a palpable presence and seems to insulate him from the concerns that might occupy the rest of us, such as when he brings his current girlfriend in for lunch.

The location is off the beaten track in the northwest part of the suburbs. The place is small and the kitchen open. The cook is not on a diet, if you get my drift, and I am amazed that in such a small kitchen the staff can work around him. But the product he and this minimum staff put out is commensurate with any big multi-starred Zag-Mich status address. The kitchen staff works only a couple of feet from the tables. It’s a working class, in and out, establishment. No frills. Just hot crispy, moments out of the oven, flat bread and sliced baguettes with a large jug of Naturale and we were set to begin. Three courses are listed on the chalkboard (and only) menu. My weakness for risotto demanded I ignore the other three choices in that category. The serving was as large as any main course risotto I have had but this was just the first course. “De Mare” often means a lobster carcass had been dragged through the rice just moments before it comes to the table. If you are lucky there is one shrimp as garnish. Not here. There was an abundance of seafood, perhaps as much as there was rice and besides that there were six mussels in their shells. This was some of the best risotto I have ever had.

I had octopus for the second course. I was in a ragout of vegetables. It was good. Riccardo’s fish dish was excellent. “Bocolo” is the name, if memory serves me correctly. It is the Friday custom all over Florence. The fish is the traditional preserved fish of a bygone era. Apparently slightly salted as a curing (not so much as our Cod) then rinsed and prepared in various ways. Ric’s was sautéed in butter. Quick, clean and to the point. Delicate, rich and appropriate considering he also had the risotto. We both had cannellini bean salad.

No tax, no tip. We only had water. Nine euro for each of us. I was stuffed.

I’m not sure what the pedestrian food critic hacks at the LA or New York Times would say but this meal would especially please true connoisseurs like Marianne and Victor or even Bill Lewis.

As stuffed as I was I was somewhat apprehensive about the wild ride back. Yes, did I mention that the ancient cobbles of Florence streets are not mediated much by the shocks of a scooter?

Ric dropped me off at a REAL supermarket and he went back to work. Laundry soap, TP and paper towels aren’t found at the Mercato Centrale and would probably cost me a fortune at the historic Farmacia. Around the world a supermarket is basically the same. That is, laid out the same. Some products may vary but the categories are similar. The familiarity is reassuring. However, here, the sweets aisle is much larger and the fragrance sneaks up on you two aisles before you get there.


Pictures for tonight are from my wild ride on the motor scooter. However, they are all concocted after the fact on the long walk back from the supermarket.

SANTA CROCE

Although your need to tirage time may be grateful that Blogger restricts posts to no more than five pictures at a time. I’ll just post twice.

Santa Croce was started in 1274. Its façade was last adjusted in the 19th century. It is a beautiful rambling structure and I wanted to show more than the entombments. It is filled with many frescoes including ones by Giotto. There are many works by Donatello. The paintings are…religious. It is here in 1497 that the Bonfires of the Vanities occurred. There are numerous attached cloisters and chapels, open grounds and walled gardens.

Your pictures are: the outside of Santa Croce, exterior ceiling detail surrounding the cloistered grounds, Pazzi chapel ceiling detail (outside the main church), one of the cloistered areas, and inside another cloister (now a museum).

GALLERY OF SEPULCHRES

I remember when my parents and sister came to visit, nearly 30 years ago, and the morning conversation got around to what we were going to do for the day. My sister’s reply, “Please, not another cemetery.” I proudly admit; I am like my parents. Give me a good cemetery for entertainment anytime. Or as Mike Stanley would say, “There is nothing as uplifting as planning a funeral.”

Today, I spent most of the afternoon in the Gothic Santa Croce, touted as the “Florentine Westminster Abby.” Started by the Franciscan friars it had the same architect as the Duomo, although the architect never saw completion of either. There are 250 floor tombs and dozens of massively elaborate shrines and entombments at the sides of the church. The 7000 pipe organ, though no-longer the largest in the world, still boasts the best sound production in the world due to the structure of the church.

Among the many famous and infamous people planted here are: Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli and Rossini.

Michelangelo was buried in Rome, as he had wished. However, since this was another church controlled by the Medici their wish for prominence over-rode Buonarroti’s wishes and his body was brought here. In addition, Galileo Galilei was in deep water with the church so the Franciscans brought his body here and built him a remarkably beautiful tomb. However, to stave off the church’s desire to remove the body, the Franciscans buried him secretly somewhere else in the church.

It was a wonderful afternoon among the dead.

Your pictures for tonight (with available light) are: Galileo’s tomb, Michelangelo’s tomb, inside view of the church, Niccolini tomb (by my favorite Pio Fedi; this statue is the inspiration for the Statue of Liberty) and the tomb of poet Vitturio Alfrieri.

SAN LORENZO

The walk was brisk this morning on my way to the Mercato Centrale (Central Market) I had lots to do and I didn’t want to be tempted by all the sweet shops. They conveniently vent their AC exhaust at nose level on the narrow sidewalk. The scents engulf you, tempt you and ultimately pull you inside. There is this one that I intend to give in to, to succumb to the beautifully executed petit fours. They look wonderful. But… staple items this morning. I shop more than a dowager from Fez.

Unbelievably, the lines at the Cathedral of San Lorenzo were short so I took an hour side-trip and played tourist. It is a magnificent structure…except for the front, which looks stripped of glory, as plain and drab as an old set of forgotten lawn furniture. But the inside and the rest of the exterior structure are great. The architecture was designed by Brunelleschi. The whole structure, not just the dome as with the Duomo. The inside is much more detailed than the Duomo and Donatello did much of the bronze work (especially the doors to the back chapel). This was apparently the major church of the Medici (as per the audio I rented). There is one eight-year old Medici in a glass and bronze coffin. Very impressive. A bit macabre. You can see the skeleton. His little head with the crown of jewels held on by scraps of scalp on the skull. There is also a Medici sarcophagus that was touted as the finest example of Renaissance craftsmanship in Florence. It was marble engulfed in bronze and suspended in a fretwork of bronze woven ropes. The Donatello doors to the back chapel are apparently second only in craftsmanship to the Ghiberti doors of the Duomo Baptistery. The altar is a wonder of inlaid marble and colored stone. There are three domes all with frescos that rival the Duomo. I was impressed.

Now on to the market. I get most at this vast market but I wait for the trip home for the bread. Just a little further near the stazione there is a little shop that has great bread. Especially the whole wheat and, of course, there are these sweet bun-like cookies with roasted and glazed almonds inside and covering the top. The bun/cookie is very firm and made with something that turns it this deep golden yellow color. The flavor! Then on to the store for envelopes while eating one.

I needed to get back to make arrangements to meet the stepson of a friend of an acquaintance of mine from the gym in Los Angeles (convoluted introduction). However, when I got home Riccardo immediately calls and asks to meet him outside of his workplace and he will take me to see his gym (the one that I want to join for my stay). Unfortunately, he gave me only enough time to change and run out to catch the #23 bus to Frienze Nouve (20 minutes from the Duomo). He didn’t give me enough time to consult with Transparent Language Lesson 15 entitled “Bus Directions” to assure my getting there. Fortunately, I figured out that one must buy the bigleito (ticket) from a tobacconist-store beforehand. I fervently watched every sign and street plaque. Finally, Frienze Nouve and Panciatchi.

Riccardo introduced me to his trainer and the manager of the club. I will get one trainer-session free and two visits (without a trainer), also for free. They have all the amenities including a pool. I start at 6:00 PM on Monday.

After the bus dropped me back at the Duomo, I noticed only two people in line to walk up to the top. I bought a bigleito (6 Euros) and proceeded to take the 463 steps to the top. The stairway is often at a 60-degree angle and frequently only a couple of inches wider than my shoulders. And this is for two-way traffic. In such stuffy, claustrophobic quarters one has to be careful whom one walks behind. Hot sweaty and perhaps not bathed in a day or two. The view at the top is panorama at it best. I didn’t have my camera (only the phone camera) so I will go back. My legs actually hurt more coming down.

I came back and went to the MAGI store for water and bananas (bananas never make it on the trip back from the Centrale…they end up mashed). And I got the largest loquats I have ever seen. Perhaps the size of a very large apricot.

I’m tired, so on to the pictures of the day: Cathedral of San Lorenzo, inside the Mercato Centrale, (the remainder also in the market) two ladies making inspection, a cheese shop and a flower shop.

I'm exhausted! Goodnight.

BARRIERS: LANGUAGE AND LITERAL

Remind me never, again, to complain about menu options on phone services. Just imagine accessing and using the menu in Italian. And, of course, getting each task menu to switch to English means making the request using the Italian menu. A vicious cycle! With an extended hit and miss process I have successfully gotten the TIM (one of the phone services here that I use) “balance check” to come up in English. I, now, know how much time I have left and I am able to make phone calls. It seems Text messaging is preferred. I have just sent my first trial Text to York. (I know I am behind the times. Give me a break. I just got a cell phone a month ago.) While I wait on the verdict from York, I will try setting up my voicemail. Saints preserve me from technology!

Too much food. Too much rich food. Too much dessert. I slept in this morning. This is easy to do as the windows have solid hinged-covers so I can block out all light. In addition there is no thumping music from other apartments nor any car noise or motor scooter noise; as I have mentioned I am in the Area Pedonale. However, even in the areas where traffic is allowed, I have noticed that there is never any honking and despite the masses of j-walking tourists, with their noses in a map, I haven’t noticed one incident of noticeable impatience by way of screaming or gesturing from the drivers.

This is tending to be a less prosaic blog entry than those proceeding, isn’t it?

So, continuing in that vain, may I mention that I am shocked that in this ancient building I haven’t noticed one bug, of any sort. I am not complaining; this makes me very happy. Perhaps the water has killed them. And on that note, I was curious so I “Cerca con Google (to be discussed shortly).” Anyway, searching came up with an abstract entitled “The Mutinagentic Effects of Ozonation and Chlorination of Florentine Water.” I couldn’t even get an abstract version, without paying, so I have just left the title to my imagination (a dangerous prospect). However, remember when I said the water smelled something like “let’s sterilize a little before we put the bolts in his head” and went on to call it “Frankenstein Water.” Well, remember in the movie when the good Dr. Frank asked his half-crazed assistant to crank the head-bolted assemblage of body parts up higher in the tower so they could catch the lightening? All this, so we could have that memorable line “It’s alive! IT’S ALIVE! Ozonation is just that. Lightening and water, in a less than literal way. And when you subject water to ozonation you get that foul smell. Add to that, the admitted (another article on Florentine water), high levels of chlorine, you get “Frankenstein Water.” Indeed, what the "Mutinagenic Effects..." probably hypothesizes is that, if you dare to drink the water, you may actually GROW bolts out of your neck.

Now to “Cerca con Google.” It is like an insidious weed creeping into my computer. Every time I turn around another service decides to switch me to Italian language services. Google was the first. And I am weathering that fairly well. But last night when I was about to post the blog for the night, the Blogger Home Page popped up in Italian requesting information before I could sign into the site. And today started the deluge of ads popping up: “Want to WORK in the USA? Click to join the Official American Green Card Program, Today,” or the brightly colored WARNING: Do you want to miss your chance to LIVE and WORK in the USA.” And I thought the endless SPAM of “Colon Cure” or “Viagra Vitality” e-mails and ads were irritating.

Ok, what else can I k-vetch about?

Speaking of the Internet. My glee for having DSL here was compounded when I found the price they charge at all the Internet stations around the city. One Euro for five minutes; $2.50 Euro for an hour. And I get free, unlimited, access.

Oblique segue coming up.

My bed! Initially I thought it was going to be a problem. It is only 12 inches off the ground and with no box springs. But it is SO comfortable. And it has a feather comforter. How such a light thing can keep me so toasty is a marvel. I have been using cotton comforters (sometimes three) in the drafty California winters (those of you in Gowanda will hate me for that remark). Those cotton comforters are as heavy as a marble crypt stone. Well, when I get back home, it will only be feathers for me. No remarks, please.

Pictures for tonight will be as odd as my conversation: Construction barrier near Uffizi, window in the Pza. della Repubblica, another barrier, yet another barrier and torn wall posters.

Arrivederci!

PIRRO CHE RAPISCE POLISSENA

As Venice is a city of pigeons, Florence is a city of swallows. I would assume their prevalence is due to the unlimited nooks and crannies available for their mud-constructed nests; nests that nicely/fortunately blend into the stone-work of the city. They are ever a visual and auditory presence. My apartment view is, shall we say, painted in the limited palate of terracotta rooftops and blue sky. One might imagine it to be static; uninteresting. However, the swallows are a constant interplay of movement and sound. I must confess that I have been rather unobservant in my live regarding these creatures. I didn’t remember that swallows have such voices. Yes, there is a lot of screeching that goes on but their register dips and swirls as much as their flight. They proclaim a low throaty tone that almost immediately can soar to a screech then dive again to lower tones. They are fun to watch and add life to the quietest of vicolo (alley). Today there were a couple new discoveries in store for me. There was the post office and it’s extremely efficient push a button (described in Italian, naturally) system to get a numbered and lettered voucher. Then wait for the LED screens to indicate your designation and assign you a window. Then there was the problem of finding paper for my printer in an area that is much more concerned with pushing gelato (and disgustingly hard, lard-consistency shave cream that is so redolent of perfume that I smell like a concubine even after dancing feverishly in the shower; a shower that is at the mercy of pressure fluctuations in Pisa). I digress…a bit! Moving along. I did find a place that sells the paper but it was closed by the time I got there. But this round-about-looking trip was providence. I found a shop run by a woman who arrived here 30 years ago from England. Hallelujah and a chorus of jubilation! She sold me an aerosol (how wonderful) can of Palmolive 400 ml whipping cream style shave cream for the amazingly low cost of just $3.00…US. Praise be to the saints of the toilet. We had a nice conversation about my trying to learn Italian without a coach. And now, I am looking forward to shaving in the morning.

I think I have mentioned the squeezebox music (an accordion to those of you who aren’t Polish, from Gowanda or didn’t watch Lawrence Welk). These guys move from restaurant to café offering up a little Italian color. Well, they stop at the restaurant in the vicolo below me. I thought it might be a problem at first but they never stay longer than an hour or so. I have gotten rather accustomed to hearing it. We will, of course, keep this just between us…I like it. It adds a lot of warmth to the apartment. Between the traveling squeezebox performers and the flute music that wafts over the Loggia della Signoria into my apartment, I haven’t needed or wanted to play any of my music.

I cooked today. Just pasta alla Bolognese with shards of P. Reggiano. I was afraid that boiling the pasta in the Frankenstein water would ruin the taste but it was rather good.

Went to the Duomo again today but this time went in. I was amazed how straightforward the interior is in comparison to the intricate stone carving and inlay on the exterior. Also went downstairs. Most of the other tourists just turned around when they got to the bottom of the stairs. To the left was the gift shop and to the right there was a one Euro entry fee for the area underneath the cathedral. I coughed up the one Euro…to my delight. There was a church on this spot in the 4th century that was in use even through the first 80 years of construction of the present Duomo, built on top of it. There were a lot of artifacts and crypts of knights. On the other side (where the gift shop was located) there was a fenced off area that housed the final resting place of Filippo Brunelleschi (who was responsible for the seemingly impossible completion of the dome for this cathedral). There was a wreath and beside his cover-stone two large white candles. I didn’t take the walk up to the top of the dome today as the line was long and it was starting to rain a little (which cleared up by 7:00 pm).

Pictures for tonight are: My favorite sculpture done in 1865 in marble. “Pirro che rapisce Polissena” by Pio Fedi (1816-1892). You have four shots of the same sculpture. It is housed in the Loggia della Signoria just a couple of buildings down from my apartment. The last photo is of another statue in the same area shot over the neighboring restaurant. The flute player or other performers (that I have mentioned before) are usually found to the left and just below the loggia, where my favorite sculpture is located. The proportions are so much more accurate than the David. The detailing of the fabric is astounding. Yes, the bold stance of David in “all his glory” is a great symbol of the power that was Florence. But the Fedi, I think is better.

Enough! It’s bedtime.

Il Porcellino

MAY 4th
At 6 AM I woke up after only two hours of sleep. Thought I'd snack. Hunks of Parmagiano Regiano and bread (purchased already drenched with olive oil and spices)! Washed down with blood-orange juice (wonderful) and panaforte cioccolato e ciliege (kinda like chocolate fruit cake).

This started out as a reply to Joan’s e-mail but it seemed a good start for today’s blog. I went out after putting out the trash at 8 pm (a tenant requirement and also good excuse to go out at night…I think I’ve said that before). Watched the sun set on the Arno, again. Walked around and listened to music at various locations. Ate some more...of course. Then came back home and posted yesterday’s blog. At midnight I decided to go out, again. Went to a club nearby; that is very nice, very small and that has wonderful techno music with a dance floor and light show. I leave the dimensions of the club to last. It is underground. No it is not the usually thought of "underground" floating club scene; they are fun. NO, this one IS underground. No doubt part of the old sewer system. The highest point in the place is 8 feet high. I had to duck down to use the 5 foot 5 inch doorways to get from one room to the other. The dance floor is 10 feet wide and 30 feet long. Oh yes, all the ceilings are rounded. When I stood at the side of the room my spiked hair scraped the ceiling(I’m so happy to have gel again; a woman may not feel fully dressed until she applies lipstick…for me…gel). And was probably scratching nicotine scum off the ceiling (smoking is forbidden but they don't seem to care...kinda like the VFW in Gowanda). Another point of fact; there is no framing or drywall. It seems carved out of stone. The resulting din of sound bouncing off totally solid surfaces is amazing intense, as the twelve speakers (on the rounded area, thereby inches from your ears) rattle your insides. Perhaps one benefit will be the sound-wave removal of my arterial plaques (is that spelled correctly???). The place is fun but I probably ruined the good audiology report I just got from the VA. Oh, on top of that the DJ thought it was nifty to use his laser pointer to point out people in on the floor or shoot it on the disco ball thereby flashing the laser in our eyes. I anticipate deafness and blindness as the cost for the night out. I danced a lot and drank a Jack Daniels (forget fancy Hollywood drinks). Oh, yes. You know how hard it is to order a drink at a noisy bar. You lean over the bar and scream at the bartender and he still can’t hear you or you get the wrong drink. Well, these inventive bartenders (you will remember this from grade school) have two cups and a string. I swear! You scream into the 12oz plastic cup with the twine sticking out of the bottom and the bartender listens to you in the other plastic cup. Amazingly silly but it works. Oh, yes. Also inventive. They give you a "tab" the instant you walk in. As you drink the bartenders add little notes on a card that you carry around with you. You pay a cashier at the end of the evening. I thought this rather trusting. Until I realized, no windows. No egress. And the guy at the door is BIG. When I left I think it was 3:30 AM and there were a lot of people just getting there. Maybe I'll stay later the next time. Great dance music and a hoot. Well, we are now back to 6 AM where I began.

I rested a lot today.

Later, I met Daniele Lococo the other resident (permanent) on this floor. Her apartment is the size of mine and Giermo’s combined. She is very nice. Now is probably the time to confess my Italian language skills. Admittedly, and to my credit there are a few things I apparently say very well. To my simple, yet well phrased, “Buona sera” I therefore get a deluge of rapid fire Italian; like I’m some long lost nearly dead rich uncle they want to impress before he changes his will. As a result, my most well used phrase is the Italian for “I only speak a few words of Italian.” Then…and sadly I admit, is my penchant for just falling into mixing in bits of German or my horrible misuse of a few Spanish phrases. I feel like the language version of Sybil Dorset. Although, I don’t spit and drool like Sally Field did in that movie. I don’t think?

Drooling brings me to my next story. (And you all thought I was bad before… with my endless stories!!) For this I have included a picture. Just around the corner in a little Piazza is “Il Porcellino” dedicated in honor of a story by Hans Christian Anderson. All the tourists flock there for the good luck one gets from putting your hand into its mouth with a coin (of course) and letting the coin drop into the trough below. Now to get the full picture, note that the pig has slow drooling water coming out of its mouth. It is without doubt a beautiful bronze sculpture but who thought that gagging a drooling pig with a coin was good luck…except for the one cleaning out the coins from the trough below.

I should think of shutting up soon…. But let me say that I am so happy with my apartment and especially it’s location. Every night I take a stroll and listen to music at the Repubblica then at the Signoria just before bed. In addition, tonight I did go to hear the Duomo chime at 9 PM. But it seems they must turn it off after eight. However, I did discover on this trip a wonderful seated statue of Brunelleschi (across the street on the right side of the Duomo). He is intensely gazing up at HIS dome and jotting down something on a tablet. Later on the walk home just two blocks from my street (where they sell the knock-off designer handbags right under the “NO FAKES” city sign banning such sales) the police came screeching up in their cars right in the middle of all the guys selling the stuff. They all scattered like diner guests at dish-washing time. The police got a lot of their merchandise. Resourceful, the guys selling the stuff were set up by the Uffizzi by the time I got there to listen to music. There was a wonderful cool breeze.

Pictures for tonight: Il Porcellino, my favorite building (so far) 13th century, Arno sunset looking west, garden vines along the Arno and cones in a gelato shop.