Italy - When in Rome

It was Sunday morning, and I had just finished my daily wrestling match with the handheld shower tool when I heard fervent knocking on the bathroom door.  “Did you feel that?” Deena was asking, and by the look on her face, I could tell something was amiss.  She told me that she was lying in bed looking up at the ceiling when the large rectangular light fixture began swaying.  She then found herself rocking back and forth in the bed and realized an earthquake was happening.  Joseph and Deveny slept through it, no surprise there, and I never felt it, so Deena was our family’s only eyewitness to the central Italian earthquake of October 30, 2016, the most powerful quake to strike Italy since 1980.  The earthquake registered 6.6 at the epicenter, and Rome received the last of the tremors—still disconcerting because it happened so spontaneously.  Emergency preparedness experts always advise getting out of buildings or at least taking shelter under a door casing, but there is not much time when the ground starts heaving.  That’s the fourth earthquake to strike this region in the last week—good thing we’re leaving Rome tomorrow and heading south to Mt. Vesuvius…

With our Sunday off in an early dubious direction, we got dressed, ate another quick continental breakfast, and headed off to our chosen place of worship, the Rome Baptist Church located in the Piazza di San Lorenzo in Lucina near the Pantheon.  On corners throughout the city, there are continuously running fountains, decorated individually with water gushing from small brass spigots.  The water flowing from these fountains is clean, cold, and refreshing, and by watching the locals, we’ve learned that if the flow is stopped by covering the bottom of the spigot with a finger, it redirects through a small hole in the top of the fitting resulting in an impromptu drinking fountain.  We’ve been filling our bottles every morning at the neighborhood fountain, and on this day there were groups of people all around this gathering spot chattering and gesticulating wildly, and we assumed the earthquake was the topic of discussion.

Tram number eight, our mode of transportation to church, was packed—scary packed.  Arguments broke out at every stop as people tried to board an already full car, and I was sweating in the crush of people trying to close my eyes and go to my happy place as is my custom in moments of claustrophobia.  The streets were full of pedestrians, and the busses were brimming with riders in the early morning as well. I thought that maybe Romans head off to church in droves, but we found out later that they were making their way to the shopping districts to walk around and enjoy a weekend lunch with family and friends.  After an uncomfortable thirty-minute ride, we extricated ourselves from the confines of the tram and walked unhindered in the crisp morning air.  The Italian time change occurred earlier in the day, and the sun was already bright in the sky as we walked to church, but we had time to stop for a tour of the two-thousand-year-old Pantheon on the way.  We stood under the world’s largest unreinforced concrete dome and looked through the oculus at the deep blue Roman sky, amazed at the preservation of this ancient building.

Pantheon dome

A few blocks later, we entered the Piazza di San Lorenzo and found the marble-cased entry to the Rome Baptist Church, where interim Pastor David greeted us with a warm handshake and a hearty “Good morning” enveloped in an accent born in the southern United States.  The sanctuary was radiant with light streaming from the windows and covering every curve of the white-washed plaster ceiling and walls.  Two large vases full of yellow and white flowers were on a table in front of a small lectern, and there was a small pipe organ filling the wall at the back of the altar.  Dark-stained oak pews lined the center of the sanctuary, and the whole setting was not unlike that of a small country church in the US.  For the next hour we joined the multiracial congregation in prayer and singing, and Pastor David delivered a sermon about discovering the will of God through simple steps of faith.  David and his wife, Paulette, had been serving the church for the past month while the senior pastor was away, and they were preparing to return home to Knoxville, Tennessee.  Near the end of the service, the visitors had the opportunity to stand and speak, and I introduced my family among visitors from the Netherlands, New Zealand, Germany, South Carolina, and a young couple from Raleigh, North Carolina.  It was a great hour of worship at the Rome Baptist Church, and afterward we enjoyed sharing travel stories with other visitors over rich coffee and and a variety of biscuits.

Rome Baptist Church

For the next two hours, we wandered the old streets of Rome guided by serendipity as we happened upon small piazzas and ancient buildings tucked into corners of renaissance style housing rows.  We eventually found ourselves at the base of the Trevi Fountain, where we lined up together and tossed coins over our shoulders into the water, ensuring our return to the Eternal City someday.  We walked all the way to the Spanish Steps and found a restaurant where we enjoyed a lunch of spaghetti and meatballs, fried chicken, and a Caprese salad full of fresh tomatoes and mozzarella cheese.  The tram ride back to our Monteverde neighborhood was thankfully uncrowded, and we returned to our apartment for a late afternoon nap and a supper of hot calzones from our favorite corner restaurant.  We’re still trying to make up our minds on how we should spend our final day in the City of Seven Hills, but the past two days have been full and fruitful.

Trevi Fountain

Spanish Steps under a lot of tourists 

Italy - Rome

For four hours, regional train 55007 sped through the Italian countryside passing by mountain ranges, farms, and villages built on rocky outcrops and finally brought us into the Eternal City at stazione Roma Termini.  At a bus depot in the parking lot just outside the station, we managed to buy tickets and find the correct bus in record time.  Finding our apartment was a different challenge altogether as we got off the bus five stops too early and then boarded a nearby tram hoping for the type of transportation deliverance we received in Venice.  We hopped off the tram ten stops later, fired up Google maps, held our collective breath, and darned if we weren’t only a five-minute walk from our apartment—yes!  

Our host, Cynthia, couldn’t meet us, so she sent her husband, Romano, to let us into the flat and show us around, and boy, did he ever.  Romano was five feet tall, seventy-eight years old and a real ball of Roman fire.  I told him that he looked great for seventy eight, and he said it was because he was a pole-vaulter in his youth.  He whisked us inside and showed us everything about the apartment we would need to know and then took Deena and me on a walking tour of the neighborhood to show us the markets, bus stops, and the places to buy tickets.  He told us that his wife typically handles meeting guests because he is usually tending to his beehives 100 kilometers away from the city.  Romano stopped to speak to a vendor friend of his in fluent Chinese and told us that he speaks five languages.  Back at the apartment, he tossed us the keys, gave us a background story on a few Italian idioms, and we finally said “ciao” to our five-foot, seventy-eight-year-old, pole-vaulting, beekeeping linguist.

Market near our apartment 

Per our usual custom, Deena and I left the kids to get settled in while we went out foraging for bus tickets and dinner, both of which we found in short order.  All the shopkeepers around our new neighborhood are friendly and helpful, especially the two young people at the take-away restaurant who assisted us in picking out the most perfect pizza slices for supper.  Due to our unfamiliarity with the bus routes and a pending 8:00 PM appointment at the Vatican, we didn’t have much time to rest and eat, but the coffee and Coca-Cola helped give us a second wind.  When I got online a few days ago to book reservations for Vatican Museum tickets, I discovered that on Fridays during October, the museum was offering evening visits, and I managed to score the last four 8:00 tickets—sweet.  So, after traveling all morning, finding our new home, meeting a crazy Italian, and wolfing down some incredible Roman pizza, we were off to tour the Vatican Museum...at night.

We met another angel in disguise at the bus stop who saw us struggling with a map and the schedule, and once he found out we were going to the Vatican, he told us in broken English to stay with him on the bus and get off at his stop—which we did.  After a thirty-minute bus ride, we bid “arrivederci” to our new friend and set off across the Tiber River to the city-state of the Vatican.  Everything about Rome looks big, especially to those still in a state of travel shock and walking in the dark fighting a stiff breeze blowing through the alleys.  The expanse of St. Peter’s Square came into view, and we stopped for a few minutes to look at the dimly-lit basilica and to discuss the Vatican and some of the history of the Catholic Church.  

Our reservations gained us quick entry into the Vatican Museum where we started our very focused itinerary, which included two areas:  the Raphael Rooms and the Sistine Chapel.  There’s an embarrassment of other historical riches in the museum, and we decided if anything else caught our fancy on the way to our goals, we could certainly stop to check it out.  We got sidetracked for a bit in the Egyptian rooms, but eventually the signs led us through the labyrinth of hallways into the vacuous color of the Sistine Chapel.  Deena and I were here twenty-three years ago during the day and saw Michelangelo’s frescos in natural light from the windows and thought they were great, but at night viewed with warm
incandescent lighting, they were magnificent.  Painting over wet plaster produces a soft faded look to vibrant colors and applied by a master like Michelangelo, the frescoes look like they’re floating due to the shading and depth.  We found places to sit along the edge of the chapel and stared at the ceiling and the Last Judgement painted on the far wall, over reverie broken occasionally by the guards droning “no peekchures, no peekchures pliz!”  

Vatican Museum hall

Illegal Peekchure

Raphael

We backtracked through the halls and made our way to the Raphael Rooms, a reception suite of the public area in the papal apartments covered with incredible rich frescos.  These masterpieces were painted by Raphael and the assistants in his workshop, and along with Michelangelo's frescos in the Sistine Chapel, mark the pinnacle of the high renaissance in Rome.  We wandered open mouthed through the rooms for about a half hour before making our way back to the Sistine Chapel, where we sat for a while longer hoping to forever brand the images into our memories—we may or may not have snuck a peekchure or two.  It was our good fortune to visit the Vatican Museum in the mysterious dark of Rome without the usual crush of tourist crowds, and we even managed to catch the right bus home and get off at the right stop.

Next day, we were up early, and after a quick continental breakfast, we boarded another bus bound for the Colosseum, thankful again for clear weather and a warm day.  The bus line ended at the depot in front of the modern capital building, and we climbed the long stairwell to the Piazza del Campidoglio designed by Michelangelo in 1536 with the bronze copy of Marcus Aurelius presiding over the hilltop.  As we passed beyond the plaza, the mighty Colosseum appeared with the massive expanse of the Roman Forum in the foreground.  Deveny said that the Forum ruins reminded her of a huge Putt-Putt course which set off a contest to see who could come up with the best Latin phrase:  “Darnicus!  I can’t get my ball past the windmillus maximus!”  Maybe some of you hotshots that took Latin in school could finally use your knowledge to come up with a phrase of your own.  

Forum

Since Deena and I had toured the inside of the Colosseum years ago, we decided to stay outside this time and let the children explore the interior without our looking over their shoulders.  We had reserved passes for them online earlier that day, and after retrieving their tickets onsite, they headed into the two-thousand-year old-amphitheatre looking pleased with themselves.  Deena and I spent time walking around the building reminiscing and wondering how long the Colosseum would hold the kids’ interest.  Much to our surprise, we soon received a text: “This place is awesome, we’re going to be in here a while, can you pick up lunch for later?”  How about that?  They stayed in there for an hour, and we had an Italian spread ready for them when they came out, which we enjoyed while listening to them recount their historical experience.  The Colosseum is one of those instantly recognizable icons of history, and it was fun and rewarding to take our kids there on this day. 

There was still a lot of time left in the day, so we walked a short distance to the Church of Saint Peter in Chains which houses Michelangelo’s statue of Moses and the incredible ceiling fresco by Parodi.  The Roman sky was deep blue, and the sun was bright at a low angle in the October sky as we strolled the narrow neighborhood streets to the church.  There was a larger crowd than we expected. It wasn’t a hindrance to our visit, but we were a bit disappointed that the tomb surrounding Moses was covered in scaffolding for restoration purposes. Thankfully the main statue was unobscured.  The sixteenth-century frescos in the tribune along with the intense colors of the ceiling fresco provided a relaxing, visual respite, so we found some chairs and just sat for a while.

Moses

St. Peter in Chains ceiling fresco

We began the long walk back to our bus stop with the intent to study some more aspects of the Forum, we enjoyed watching many street artists perform along the way.  The main area of the Forum sits between forty and one-hundred feet below street level depending on the vantage point. We walked around to several railed plazas while listening to a Rick Steves podcast, which helped us understand what we were seeing such as the Temple of Saturn, the Temple of Vesta, and the Arch of Titus.  Looking down on two-thousand years of history in this context was overwhelming. It amazed us to think that the Forum was only fully excavated in the beginning of the twentieth century.  After a big day of world history, we found our return bus home and rewarded ourselves with another stellar take away supper from the corner restaurant, which included roast chicken, rosemary baked potatoes, and grilled zucchini.  We took all the food back to our apartment, which reminds me somewhat of Laverne and Shirley’s place in Milwaukee. I keep expecting to see Lenny and Squiggy come bursting in at any moment.

Forum

Never know who you'll meet in Rome!

Italy - Cinque Terre

Our home for two days was the town of La Spezia located in the northwest curve of the Italian peninsula.  This is a popular base for travelers on their way to visit the Cinque Terre close by.  Based on my limited knowledge of the local language, Cinque Terre loosely translated means, “Tourist, you will never live anywhere as cool as me, ever.”  Until we started planning this trip, I was unfamiliar with this area of Italy, but I had seen posters and paintings in home stores over the years showing the colorful houses perched along steep cliffs.  The history of the area dates back a thousand years as its inhabitants gradually built five villages along the rocky coastline, supporting themselves by growing grapes and olives.  The area was almost completely isolated until the late nineteenth century when a rail line was installed.  Due to the small size of the area combined wth the huge views of the Mediterranean, Cinque Terre is popular with travelers and hikers who complete a trek between all five towns in the region in a single day, and for those young and hardy souls, it’s a fun activity.  God made express trains for the rest of us, and we chose that efficient mode of transport for our day in the area. 

We left our apartment early and walked about one kilometer in the cool morning air to the La Spezia train station and purchased our first set of tickets of the day, entitling us to a non-stop ride to the northernmost village, Monterosso al Mare.  The trains run efficiently between the five towns all day, and the fare is four euro per-person-per trip.  One can purchase a card for unlimited rides, but we decided not to buy a pass since we had planned to visit only three of the five towns, and we hoped to ride the ferry between two of them.  The travel time between towns is about ten minutes mostly through tunnels, so we were kept in suspense while waiting for our first view of the Cinque Terre.  We arrived in Monterosso, walked down from the platform, turned around, and in less than a second, understood what all the fuss is about.  This place is beautiful.  We bumbled into the narrow streets of the town already in a daze from looking at the stacks of colorful villas twisting up the rocky cliff sides looking out over the Mediterranean. At mid-morning, the sun was shining full blast in a cloudless, deep blue sky, and the humidity-free, seventy-degree air deepened the azure color of the sea on one side and sharpened the natural and man-made lines on the other.  After severe thunderstorms the night before, we were thankful for the perfect weather as we set off up the hill.

The streets of Monterosso were steep and lined with small shops and cafes at the base of buildings several stories high with residences occupying the upper floors.  The walls of every structure were stucco, color washed with rose, siena, and ochre tinted lime, all in various stages of fading which created a visual crush of variation.  Many of the stucco facades were cracked on corners exposing crumbling orange brick beneath.  Even at 10:00 in the morning, the pungent smell of sautéed garlic filled the air as restaurants were preparing for the lunchtime rush.  We wandered into an old chapel along a side street and discovered a centuries-old frieze running along the top of the orange painted walls decorated with skeletons, which I assumed to be a caution to worshippers and visitors prone to wasting the days in worldly pursuits.  After spending enough time in town, we made our way out to the seashore and stayed for a long time enjoying the sound of the small waves lapping up on the beach filled with smooth stones and tiny bits of sea glass that kept me busy collecting for a while.  We had planned to eat lunch in the next town on our itinerary, so we made our way back to the train station, bought tickets at the automated machine, and after a ten-minute ride, disembarked in the beautiful village of Vernazza.  

This town was larger and more colorful than the last, and the cliffs containing the villas soared even higher in the Italian sky.  The bases of the cliff, which were more visible in this area, were a dark gray undulation of layers left over from an ancient lava flow.  There was a small harbor at the edge of the village where we purchased passes for a ferry ride later in the afternoon.  With a couple of hours to spare, we hit the streets to explore and scout out a place to secure lunch and quickly found a small eatery offering fresh, warm slices of focaccia bread smothered with tangy sauce, creamy cheese and the rich pesto for which the Cinque Terre is famous.  We took our bags of food and some cold Cokes back down to the harbor and enjoyed our delicious lunch looking out on the Mediterranean where small fishing boats set out to sea.  Curiously, there was an old foosball table placed outside near our bench, and we risked a euro in the slot to see if we could play.  Ten balls dropped into the tray enabling Deena and me to defeat and demoralize our children in a dominant performance.  We had hoped to do a little hiking in the area after lunch, and nearby were the stairs winding up to Castella Dora, the old defense tower, offering vast panoramic views of the town.  There was a small charge to ascend the hill which we didn’t feel like shelling out, so we wandered around town until we found the trailhead leading to the next town.  We hiked steadily up for a while until coming to an astounding vista point with a commanding view of the town, the sea, and the old tower with its admission fee, so I guess it can be said that we won the Cinque Terre.  

Foosball with a view

With time running tight, we descended the hill down to the harbor and boarded our 2:15 ferry bound for Manarola, which is considered by many to be the most picturesque town of the lot.  The boat sailed out into a wide semi-circle around a jutting cliff, and as we rounded the rocky coastline, every camera on board was aimed at the high cliffs containing colorful villas built along every contour.  This was the view of Cinque Terre from all the posters and paintings, and it was spectacular.  We disembarked and walked along the slippery rocks away from the harbor with the Mediterranean surf surging all around us, and made our way higher into the village where we spent another hour hiking and exploring.  With our energy almost spent from walking and sensory overload, we located a gelateria and directed the proprietor as he loaded two cups with six flavors of this Italian treat.  There are establishments back in the States that claim to sell authentic gelato, but we’ve never found one that comes close to the real thing.  We savored our ice cream looking out over the Mediterranean from a long balcony high above the rocky shore, the bright buildings of Manarola towering behind us.  It was difficult to say goodbye to this completely unique part of the world; we took our last train ride of the day back to La Spezia knowing that we had seen some special places together on this day.  Back at the apartment, we shared a tasty supper of lasagne and crusty bread and began planning our departure for Rome the next morning, stopping every now and then to look at the Cinque Terre pictures one more time.

Italy - Florence to La Spezia

The Black Death spread across Europe in the middle of the 14th century and wiped out half the population in a way that seemed like a horrific judgement from God to the terrified citizens.  The city of Florence was ravaged by the disease and lost over sixty percent of its population in just a few months making it seem like a ghost town.  The plague took people from the loftiest nobles to the lowliest peasants, and as a result, Europe experienced major social and economic disintegration to the point of anarchy.  Considering these facts, I was amazed that in just 150 years after the most devastating pandemic in human history, Florence could recover to the point of leading the Italian Renaissance and cultivating an artistic community capable of producing the apex of creative genius, the statue of David by Michelangelo.

Giorgio Vasari describes the most famous sculpture in the world this way, “When all was finished, it cannot be denied that this work has carried off the palm from all other statues, modern or ancient, Greek or Latin; no other artwork is equal to it in any respect, with such just proportion, beauty and excellence did Michelangelo finish it.”  That pretty much sums it up for me.  While I appreciate sculpture as an art form, I tend to ignore the majority of examples in museums, my heart forever belonging to the works of the master painters on display.  The statue of David cannot be ignored, and it has no rival in its perfection.  Michelangelo was just twenty-six years old when he started working on a huge block of carrara marble, and in two years he unveiled his iconic masterpiece to an astonished Florentine assembly.  

We had booked an 11:15 appointment to enter the Galleria dell'Accademia in which the statue resides and took an early bus from our villa in the hills back into Florence ready for some more art appreciation.  We arrived in town with time to spare, so we took the opportunity for a free interior tour of the Duomo, which was uncrowded due to the early hour.  Unlike the jaw-dropping exterior, the inside of the Duomo is a bit underwhelming with the exception of the richly-frescoed ceiling of the dome which depicts the last judgement. After viewing several older gothic cathedrals earlier in our trip, we could see the major differences in design between centuries.  The Accademia was right up the street from the Duomo, so we strolled to the ticket office at our appointed time, bought our passes, and found a place in the queue for reservations which was right beside the queue for general admission that stretched around the block with people who had been waiting for two hours.  In the age of the internet, I can’t understand why people waste time in line when a few simple clicks result in time-saving reservations.

Duomo Baptistry doors

Duomo ceiling fresco

There are many other works of renaissance art displayed in the Accademia including altarpieces, paintings, and sculptures by multiple artists, but David is the rockstar here, and after 512 years, he still sells the place out every day.  We did our best to stretch out the first part of the museum, but we finally gave in to the statute's pull, rounded the corner, and beheld David in all his nekkid, marble glory.  The hall leading down to the statue is lined with many of Michelangelo’s unfinished sculptures, and it’s fascinating to see the artist's work in progress, but not as mesmerizing as David, the veins in his hand pulsing with tension as he confidently sizes up his opponent.  Ok, it’s weird telling your kids to focus on the detail of the anatomy that Michelangelo employed when he obviously spent the same amount of time on certain parts as he did the others, but hey, it’s art, right?  We spent about an hour and a half in the Accademia, and while most of our time was focused on David, we enjoyed many other exhibits as well.

One of Michelangelo's unfinished works

Altarpiece

Nothin' butt the best art for these two!

The appetite created by viewing five-hundred-year-old naked dudes is formidable, so we made our way deeper into Florence to the Yellow Bar, an establishment in which Deena and I dined on our honeymoon—the place looked much the same, still serving pasta made just before it comes to the table.  We ordered several pasta dishes and a pizza margherita, and after a generous dusting with fresh parmesan cheese and a drizzling of rich olive oil, we devoured it all savoring the intense flavors—it was a fabulous luncheon.  We walked through the leather-scented air of the Mercato Centrale on the way to the bus stop and managed to resist the deals of the century offered by many merchants even though some of the suede jackets were mighty tempting.  We dozed on the bus ride back to Impruneta and then enjoyed walking back to our villa in the cool air of the Florentine hills, feeling a bit melancholy knowing that it’s time to move on.

Next day, we rose early and had a quick breakfast of boiled eggs and toast before taking one last walk to the bus stop in the center of Impruneta, and just when the locals were getting used to the American family in town, we had to leave.  We made it to the train station with some time to spare and ended up sitting next to an Australian lady traveling alone, and we talked to her for a long time while waiting for our train.  She had been in a horrific car crash last year, and after a long recovery, decided to take a five-week trip overseas to regain her confidence.  She was a delight to talk with and gave us many tips for traveling in southeast Asia and her home country.  We boarded our train and pulled out of Florence watching the orange brick dome of the cathedral get smaller until it disappeared from our view.  I’m thankful that I got to visit Florence twice in my life, and while I doubt that Deena and I will return, hopefully Joseph and Deveny will find their way back one day.

We changed trains in Pisa and managed to catch a glimpse of the leaning tower as we pulled out of the station which made us feel a bit better about not scheduling more time here—so many places, so little time.  The train rolled into La Spezia around 2:30, and our host, Carlo, was kind enough to meet us at the station and drive us to our apartment, and he pointed out all the nearby restaurants and grocery stores in the process.  Carlo’s wife, Christina, was waiting for us, and we enjoyed watching this animated couple go through an Italian, whirlwind tour of our home for two days—we smiled and said “thank you” a lot. They left us with the keys and a big bag of chocolate chip cookies which we devoured the instant they drove away.  

The apartment is a bit smaller than the one we had in Impruneta, but it’s bright and clean with a big, newly remodeled bathroom.  The back door opens to a patio lined with bushy lemon trees full of ripening fruit and a view of the mountains dotted with stucco villas.  We spent an hour resting up a bit and walked a few blocks to the grocery store to purchase supplies for the next couple of days, and on the way back, Deena spotted a small hair salon and boldly walked in to see about getting a haircut, which she felt was long overdue.  We left her there to fend for herself and walked back to the apartment where I felt the need for my afternoon coffee. I finally figured out how to use a moka pot to make a cup of strong brew.  After Deena came back from the salon looking lovely, we made a simple supper of minestrone soup and grilled salami and cheese sandwiches and talked about our recent adventures.  A big day in Cinque Terre is planned for tomorrow, so it’s off to bed early tonight as the adventure continues.

Our back yard in La Spezia

Italy - Birthday in Florence

Deena’s birthday began with steak and eggs served with fruit, yogurt, and tea while watching the sun slowly warm up the hills of Impruneta.  I’m happy to report that the espresso machine in our kitchen is functioning at a high level and has attained the lofty status as A Gift From The Lord.  We rolled out of bed a little earlier today in order to prepare for church, but we made sure to give ourselves enough time to enjoy the morning.  Deena found the Mosaico Church in Florence through an internet search, and we were excited about attending worship because we were traveling the last two Sundays.  The only morning bus option from Impruneta to Florence on Sunday was at 8:00, a completely unacceptable option to my long slumbering crew, so we arranged a taxi pickup at 10:00 in order to make the 11:00 service on time.  With everyone well fed, mostly awake, and the birthday girl looking lovely, we hiked about a kilometer to the taxi pickup point and met our driver who was right on time.

The thirty-minute ride took us along winding roads through olive tree-covered hills as we descended into the Arno Valley with the buildings of Florence barely visible in the distance through a dense layer of fog.  The traffic in Florence was already formidable at mid-morning, but our driver skillfully delivered us to the Caffe Deco in the Piazza della Liberta, the home of the Mosaico Church.  During the week, the Caffe Deco is a restaurant and music hall for local bands, but on Sunday mornings the Mosaico Church worship team occupies the stage with Pastor Cody on guitar.  We arrived early enough to have coffee and a pastry while watching the band rehearse, and we met many nice people.  The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, and we were thankful to be a part of this group of believers on Deena’s birthday.  After a time of singing, Pastor Cody preached a compelling sermon on trusting in the sovereignty of God during times good and bad, and his words were encouraging to all of us.

Mosaico Church

After church, we walked a kilometer to the Piazza del Duomo guided by the brick dome towering in the distance. We discussed our lunch options knowing all the while we would end up at the same incredible pizza place we had experienced two days ago.  The crowds were steadily building, but we managed to find a table outside and enjoyed steaming slices of crunchy sausage and ham pizza anticipating our 2:15 reservation for a visit to the vaunted Uffizi Gallery down by the banks of the Arno River.  This museum houses some of the most famous and important works of art from the Italian Renaissance, and our two students were in for a major art appreciation class.  

Due to the size of the swelling crowds around the center of Florence, we were a bit concerned that the Uffizi would be difficult to navigate, but we walked right in at our reserved time and enjoyed two hours slowly visiting each room in the museum.  While lacking the vastness of the Louvre and the British Museum, the Uffizi still packs an artistic punch displaying powerful masterpieces in a manageable space.  Many tour guides note that during the high season of summer, waiting times at the Uffizi can be as much as five hours, about as long as I would wait in line for a Led Zeppelin reunion but not much else.

The night before, I scoured the internet compiling a note sheet of “must-sees” and their museum room numbers from multiple top ten lists, and since several works had been moved around in the gallery, our visit turned into a bit of a treasure hunt which added to the fun.  We found everything on our list except for Titian’s Venus of Urbino, which depicts a naked lady on a couch, and we’ve seen plenty of paintings like that in Europe, so no big whoop.  The sculptures lining the Uffizi halls are mostly male nudes which used to be a source of embarrassment at the beginning of our trip, but we’re so jaded now that we might as well be walking past a bratwurst display.  Hope we feel that way tomorrow when we go to the Accademia to view David’s king-sized anatomy.  There were also quite a few interesting busts of famous people placed among the nudies including Socrates and several Roman Emperors—we wondered about the accuracy of the depictions.

A great philosopher...and Socrates too!

Some of the paintings with which we spent a little more face time were:  Lippi’s Madonna and Child with Angel, Pollaiuolo's tiny panels depicting the Labors of Hercules, Michelangelo’s Doni Tondo in its original frame, Uccello’s Battle of San Romano, Raphael’s Madonna of the Goldfinch, and Bellini’s Sacred Allegory.  While we all had favorites, we collectively enjoyed the wonderfully strange Madonna of the Long Neck by Parmigianino and Leonardo’s Baptism of Christ painted with his mentor Verrocchio.  Botticelli collected the most points with Deena; Joseph preferred Primavera; Deveny cast her ballot for the sublime Birth of Venus.  While there were several paintings in the Uffizi depicting the Annunciation, including one by Leonardo, my favorite hands down was the one by Botticelli.  The spiritual tension is palpable in this powerful masterpiece, and it looks like Gabriel could fly off the canvas at any moment—I was transfixed by this painting for quite some time.

Botticelli's Annunciation

Birth of Venus

Madonna of the Goldfinch

Madonna of the Long Neck

Up on the roof

We checked out the view of Florence from the rooftop of the Uffizi before heading back out to the street and making our way to the medieval Ponte Vecchio for a stroll across the Arno.  After the all the walking and intense art study we were tired and footsore, and the only cure for those conditions in Florence is of course, gelato, which we found in great supply at a cafe across from the Duomo.  It was dark by the time the bus dropped us off back in Impruneta, where we enjoyed a simple birthday dinner of minestrone soup and crusty bread while discussing all the Renaissance treats we saw in Florence.  The kids did some research and presented oral reports on the history and techniques behind their favorite paintings, and they did a fine job.  I’m thankful that after all her hard work on this trip, my wife could enjoy her birthday in such a special place as Florence.

On the Arno

Ponte Vecchio

Italy - Venice to Florence

The rains came on our last day in Zelarino, and we woke to a steady patter on the skylight in our Eco Garden apartment.  We had considered going in to Venice one more time, but the weather dictated spending a relaxing day on the farm pushing on with schoolwork, reading, and washing our clothes.  Maurizio suggested taking a short train ride to Padova, a neighboring town full of thousand-year-old frescoes and offered to take us to the train station, but we were ready for an easy day at home.  The rain tapered off by late afternoon, and Deena and I donned our jackets and set off for a walk to the small market to find ingredients for supper while Joseph and Deveny continued with their studies.  

The sky was still gray, and a light drizzle swirled through the cool air, but it felt good to get out and walk in the Italian countryside.  The narrow road was lined with deep drainage channels choked with thick grass, cattails, and the exposed roots of multi-trunked sycamores, their remaining leaves faded yellow and brown.  We passed soggy corn fields full of birds picking around the harvested stalks with farm equipment sitting idle under tarps along the borders.  We could see small vineyards through stands of evergreens, their saturated boughs drooping after a day of rain.  The warmth of the small market was welcoming, and we made quick work of selecting fresh pasta, sauce, and cherry pie for supper. I made a point to thank the signora who made the delicious sausage we enjoyed on our first night in Zelarino.  With backpacks full of groceries, we took our time  strolling back to the farm and agreed that a walk in the autumn-washed countryside with each other trumps a visit to a marble palace every time.

Early the next morning, Maurizio drove us to the train station, and we thanked him for our stay in some of the most interesting quarters we’ve experienced so far.  We found our platform and settled in for a three-hour ride to Florence aboard a smooth, speedy train.  Because the Santa Maria Novella train station is near the old section of the city, we checked our bags with the luggage storage service so we could explore the city for a couple of hours before heading to our apartment.  Florence is a vibrant, colorful city full of rich history, architecture, and art, and the children were soon snapping photos as we walked toward the Piazza del Duomo.  Deena and I spent four days of our honeymoon in this city twenty-three years ago, and it was one of the happiest times of my life.  We stayed in a hotel near the Florence cathedral, and I have clear memories of its towering orange brick dome and paneled facade made from white, green, and pink marble.

As we walked slowly uphill, the cathedral came into view, and my heart was full, standing there blinking with tears, struck once again by the beauty of this place and sharing it with my little family.  In front of God and every camera wielding tourist in the square, I pulled Deena close to me, hugged her tightly and with my voice breaking, thanked her for our life together.  Joseph and Deveny wandered off a short distance to let us have our moment and took the opportunity to choose a pizzeria for lunch.  I pulled myself together, and we sat at a table outside and enjoyed several varieties of delicious pizza.  For the next hour, we wandered the streets around the cathedral and bought two big cups of gelato to enjoy while we walked back to the train station to collect our luggage.  We boarded a late afternoon direct bus to Impruneta, a small village located in the hills above Florence, our home for the next five days.

Lunch at the Duomo

Decisions decisions 

Our host, Monica, met us at the bus stop and walked us through the center of town on winding hilly streets that were closed to cars due to a festival taking place over the weekend.  The villas we passed had huge hemlocks in their yards with an under canopy of olive trees, their silvery green branches full of ripe fruit.  The occasional pomegranate tree added another exotic layer to this picturesque village.  Monica ushered us into our apartment where we stared open-mouthed at the view from the kitchen window—a large green hill covered by olive and cypress trees and stacked with colorful villas from top to bottom.  The apartment was spacious and bright, and Monica had stocked the kitchen with everything we needed for our first breakfast the next morning.  On a day that had already been emotionally draining for me, I was again on the verge of tears as I beheld on the kitchen counter, a shiny black espresso machine.  

View from the grocery store

We rested from our travels for a while then ventured out into the streets to enjoy the festival and find something to eat.  One of the vendors had a glass case full of meats and cheeses and huge bins piled high with several varieties of olives.  We felt like we were at Costco on Sunday afternoon as we stood there eating sample after sample offered to us from the point of a long kitchen knife.  We bought a big bag of mixed olives and took them home along with some other provisions purchased from one of the small markets, and we had a small Italian feast to celebrate our arrival in a new town.  Joseph asked the blessing for supper and offered thanksgiving for his mom and dad.  I pray that God will lead my children to a husband and wife who will fill their days with joy as mine have been.

Our kitchen window view