Days 7 & 8: Florence

Journal Entry: Florence

Once we arrived in Florence, we hopped on the 23 bus to our hotel and got a nice tour of Florence without knowing where to get off.  The hotel website’s directions said to get off at a certain stop, but it was no where on the train’s route.  When it brought us back to the train station, after almost an hour, we got back off.  We decided to just walk to our b&b, which ended up only being a 10 – 15 minute walk.  We actually managed to make it there without getting lost.  Thank you Ryan for coming through in the clutch on that one.  However, we got to the alley where the hotel was, and it was in a little secluded square.  It was one of those experiences where you KNOW you are in the correct spot, but you cannot freaking find the correct door.  I almost felt like I was in Alice in Wonderland, continually trying the wrong door. 

When we finally found it (it of course had the name of the hotel on the little nameplate), the b&b owner told us he had made a mistake and double-booked one of the nights.  He had already made arrangements for us to stay at a b&b next door, for the same price.  We didn’t make a big deal out of it because he actually went to the trouble to find us accommodations.  He said it was a * above his, so it was actually a nicer b&b.  I told him we were totally fine with it, but could he please WALK.US.THERE.  I had no interest in trying to find another secret door.  He walked us to the lobby, which was up 3 flights of stairs.  The lady didn’t speak a lick of English.  The entry smelled – no reeked – of smoke.  My very tired brain was trying to process all this, while all 90% of my brain (well, 90% of what I use of my brain, I should say) was repeatedly chanting “need a shower.  Want a shower.  Need a shower.  Want a shower.”  The room was of course right next to the lobby.  The room itself didn’t smell, at least.  There was no TV, no internet, and no air conditioning.  But it was bigger than a matchbox and had private bath.  There was a small gap in the door, though, so the smoke from the entry way (apparently they allow smoking in the lobby, but not the rooms) filtered in.  My personal version of HELL. 

We went for a walk to find dinner and had decided not to bring the camera with us (our collective thought was “there is NO way I am putting anything remotely resembling weight on my shoulders tonight”).  So, Murphy’s Law decided that we would see the most beautiful sunset of our lives – just far enough away from the hotel to be a hassle to go back to get the camera.  We did count our blessings though, deciding that even though we couldn’t capture it, we at least got to experience it.  Glass half full, and all that b.s.  Near a piazza by the Duomo, there was an archway that the sun was setting against, and it was just breathtaking.  It had been raining that day, and the clouds were parting.  And the sun was casting a very dramatic shadow against one of the buildings by the archway.  Oh, and a beautiful carousel spinning.

We went to a relatively close trattoria, which was molto bene.  Ryan had pepperoni, onion & olive pizza (Ryan discovered on this trip that he loves onions on pizza), while I had tagliatelli bolognese.  My bolognese sauce was not as good as Ryan’s the previous day, but it was still good.  The bread was soooo great and my salad was super yummy.  Oh, how grateful I was that Florence likes balsamic vinegar!

After dinner, we took a walk around Florence.  Ryan realized at this part of the trip that the Firenze soccer team meant “Florence soccer team.”  Throughout the rest of our trip, he realized that all the Italian names for the teams were actually the cities they came from.  I’ll give him this…Firenze does not sound close to Florence.  (Side tangent: why can’t we just call it Firenze?  Why do we have to change it to something English sounding?  Honestly, do Italians come here and call “Washington” something different?  How very arrogant of us.  Italian names for cities are so much prettier!  Napoli instead of Naples?!  Torino instead of Torin?!  Venezia instead of Venice?!  Fiume Tevere instead of Tiber River?!)

Ok, back to our walk after dinner.  Florence is like you walked into an old movie set.  Beautiful streets.  It was almost like the renaissance come to life.

On day 2 in Florence, we walked all over.  We went to the Pointe Vecchio by accident, which was fortunate considering it was on our list of things to see that day.  On the Pointe Vecchio, it started POURING for about 10 minutes.  Which made for some good pictures.  We also made it to the Duomo, of which we had intended to go to the top and see all of Florence.  The line was insane and we decided to try back later.  We went to the Academica (where Michelangelo’s David lives), and the line was insane.  Ryan didn’t feel like waiting in line or paying to see a sculpture of a naked man, and I had already seen it, so we skipped it.  We had a simple, great lunch of pizza in a tiny little place.  We then took a few hours to rest in our room, with smoke leaking in.  Cue near nervous breakdown for Nikki.  What a difference my two hotels in Florence were (from 5 years ago and now).  We went back to try to capture a sunset at the same incredible spot as yesterday – to find it too cloudy with no sun leaking in.  Didn’t get such great ones.  The Duomo was extremely near closing, so we had to skip out on going to the top. 

For dinner, I was hell bent on having something other than pasta, panini or pizza.  We went to a ristorante where I had grilled chicken.  It was divine.  I should probably inject that dinner every night of our trip consisted of Ryan and I wandering around for an hour, looking at every menu.  (If you’ve ever gone to dinner with Ryan and I, then you already know how utterly hopeless we are at making decisions.  It’s quite obnoxious actually, and I can only sympathize with those poor souls who go to dinner with us.)  So, Ryan didn’t care where we ate, and insisted that I make the decisions because I was the picky eater.  This, although annoying to me, makes completely logical sense.  So, I go from place to place to place, looking at the menu outside.  And as Ryan puts it, I won’t eat at one place and then will pick the next place with exactly the same menu.  Although, it really doesn’t have the same menu - not to me.  It is hysterical and ridiculous.  My goal next time we travel is to be a super crazy decision maker on food. 

One thing I could decide on easily: gelato.  We had some gelato for dessert.  Just like all the previous nights, with the exception of day 1.  The gelaterias in Florence go out of their way to ornately decorate their gelato.  All gelaterias in Italy make the gelato look gorgeous, and luscious, and adorable with whatever the flavor is laying on top of the gelato.  My guess is that this is for presentation and functionality, so that tourists actually know what the flavor is.  Florence makes their gelato mounds high and flowy – almost like a renaissance wig, come to think of it.  A renaissance wig with strawberries decorated on the top. 

P.S. I wrote this journal entry on the way to Cinque Terre.  Cinque Terre was on my bucket list, so my excitement level of actually going there was off the charts.  My last sentence in my Florence journal entry was “Almost more excited to see if we have a room that is newer than 1900 or 1910.”  You could say I didn’t exactly love the B&B in Florence.