Oh beautiful, for spacious skies...

We said our goodbyes to Fabio and headed south on his narrow, one way street.  The past few days, as we have walked into Florence, we have seen buses on this street and there is no room...I mean none...between the bus and the sidewalk.  I would have loved a picture of a bus bearing down on a cyclist.  People riding bikes seem pretty nonchalant, and I realize that is easier when you are not loaded, not watching for street signs, but we did just fine.  The weather was supposed to soar into the 90's and we wanted to get to San Gimignano before late afternoon.  It was only 50 kilometers...a piece of cake, really, until you add the elevation gain and the panniers.

My cue sheet was three half pages long...ridiculously long.  At Tavarnuzze, I took a wrong turn and we started climbing, climbing, climbing.  It's one thing to do all of that work if you are on the right road, but if you are on the wrong road?  Momma Mia!  I looked at the Google map route and thought I could take a short cut to get us back on route.  We rode into this apartment-like neighborhood and two Italian men came out to find out what on earth we were doing.  We spoke with our limited Italian and the map (carte) and they spoke with their limited English.  And then...they argued...in Italian, of course, but it was clear that they did not agree on what we should do.  I was having flashbacks to the woman in the AgriTourismo in Porto Tolle.  We were concentrating on what they were saying, but their gestures said steep hills and their faces said "you are crazy".  They walked with us a short ways, pointing in the direction of the road we wanted, and we descended down a narrow, steep alley, waving and yelling "Molto grazie!". Now here's the amazing thing...as we rode, it became clear to us what they had said...4 or 5 kilometers, don't turn right, direzione of San Casiano in Val di Pesa, in salita.

We passed a cemetery south of Tavarnuzze that we wondered if Shirleen had managed...and then we started to climb.  The grade was pretty brutal, but the nice thing about hills is that eventually you get to the top.  And, because whatever goes up must also come down, we did, and it was glorious.  We started seeing olive groves and wineries neatly laid out on the hillsides.

We rode through Tavarnelle, fully expecting to be able to fill our water bottles, but the single pizzeria we saw was closed.  Blast.  We saw another cyclist at an intersection and found out he was from Lousiana.  He had come from the direction we were headed and assured us there were services, so we drank the last of our water.  Sure enough, about 3 km down the road in Barberina Val Delsa, there was a ristorante called Bustecca.  Before I could park my bike and sit down at a table, the waitress Carla had a cold bottle of frizzante at our table, bless her heart.  Patty ordered bruschetta and white beans with tomato, olive oil and sage, I had crostini with spreads of mushroom, tomato, and pâté, and a salad.  It was a wonderful lunch and Carla gave us some good information about the rest of our route to San Gimignano.  We had several people ask us where we were riding from...and the reactions, the raised eyebrows, made us chuckle.

It was a long, hot slog to Casa del Poggio.  32 miles...3400' of gain for the day.  Marco and his wife Margherita run this B&B but the house and farm have been in the family since the 17th century.  Marco showed us around the grounds with Luigi, their friendly dog.  Our view of San Gimignano is amazing, and we walked into town and ate at an osteria that Margarite suggested.  Patty had rabbit with olives from this area, I had ricotta and spinach balls with truffle.  Amazingly, we both had room for gelato, then retraced our steps to the B&B with some difficulty (Do you remember this house? Did the road merge with a larger road)?  We're watching Brazil/Colombia, but tomorrow, TDF will have our full attention.  Happy 4th of July, dear friends.

"Who Loves a Garden Still His Eden Keeps"~Bronson Alcott~

We managed to catch Fabio in between breakfast guests and take his picture in the garden.  He has been so kind and helpful, a delightful, creative man.

We met Jeremy and the boys at the train station to see them off to Rome.  They have well over a month of traveling ahead of them; Italy, Albania, Hungary, Germany.  I meant to give them an Italian farewell kiss...you know, on both cheeks...but I revert back to my "motherness" in these sorts of times, and I just held them tight, told them I loved them, told them to be safe.

Patty happened upon a church called Chiesa di San Salvatore a Ognissanti.  It was one of those serendipitous moments on the trip where we were oddly in the right place at the right time.  Silence was required and for women, shoulders and knees needed to be covered...a reverence, if you will.  A woman who was probably one of the volunteers loaned us scarves and spoke only in Italian about the paintings, the frescoes, etc. We didn't get any of it, but looked it up later...it was built in the 13th century and in the beginning was a simple church.  It was one of the first examples of Baroque architecture and the Franciscan order eventually took control of the church.  Botticelli is buried here.  Oh my.

We bought slices of mushroom pizza at a neighborhood cafe that we like near our B&B, washed out a few clothes (even we have to do laundry), took a short riposo, and then headed to Boboli Gardens.  The gardens are on the grounds of the Pitti Palace, the main seat of the Medici grand dukes of Tuscany.  Designed by Buontalenti, it includes sculptures by Lorenzi and Giambologna, and was built in the 16th century.  It has no natural water source, so an elaborate system of irrigation was routed from the river Arno.  The iris and peonies, were, of course, spent, so there was not a great deal of color, but the grounds were expansive and it is hard to believe that the Medici family did not use this wonderful garden to entertain.  It is not a site for those who don't want to hike a bit...there were some steep paths and the views of the city were amazing.  There were a lot of people...especially Brits, enjoying the formal beauty of this place.

We did not take the tour of the Duomo and we did not get to the Galleria dell Accademia.  But while I am not interested in going back to Rome, I want to come back to Florence.  It is a beautiful city, with people who smile back, music and art in the streets, and very.good.gelato.  The pasta is not too bad either.  Tonight for dinner we went back to a little osteria called Santo Spirito and had a). Risotto with zucchini and parmesan, and b) Spaghetti with garlic, olive oil and chili peppers.  The chunks of parmesan were quarter-sized, same with the garlic.  We came very close to finishing it all.  We should feel guilty, but here's the thing...we don't.

Tomorrow we get back on the bikes.  We head south and west to San Gimignano in Tuscany and the scenery promises to be spectacular.  Stay tuned.

Of Genius and Gelato

I am getting spoiled.  Seriously.  Breakfast in the garden two days in a row, and Fabio's breakfasts are amazing:  cappuccino, fresh fruit, prosciutto, Brie, pastries, yogurt, hard boiled eggs.  Patty and I were well fueled for another day of exploring Florence.  We met Jeremy and the boys near a graffiti-filled tunnel, ran a couple of errands, and then went to the Leonardo da Vinci Machine Museum.  This was an interactive museum which the boys loved and we all learned some amazing things about this genius of a man.

He was an illegitimate child who could not even take his Father's name, but was called Leonardo from Vinci.  No money would be spent on his education and he realized that to overcome this he would need to learn a trade, so he joined the Guild and started drawing.  A Florentine painter named Verrocchio took Leonardo on as an apprentice, but I think it's safe to say da Vinci's work soon surpassed his teacher.  He was truly a Renaissance man...curious and fluent in so many branches of study, wholly scientific and logical, but given to beauty and ascetics.  He had over 15,000 pages of notes when he died, and some of his inventions...helicopter, armored tank, ball bearing, and our favorite, the heat-propelled automatic rotisserie spit were decades ahead of their time.  He did not, however, publish his notes, and oftentimes, he lost interest in his ideas and did not finish his commissions.  But oh, such genius.

We went for gelato after our museum tour, did some people watching which is always fun, and then went to the Chiesa di Orsanmichele, a 13th century church in the heart of Florence. Originally used for the grain market, it became a place of devotion and miracles were attributed to an image of the Virgin Mary painted on one of the pillars.  The inside is a beautiful tabernacle done in Gothic and the Guilds were commissioned to sculpt statues of the patron saints on the outside, one of which was sculpted by Donatello.

We were all ready for a break, so we headed back to our rooms for riposo.  We met again in the evening to grab a bite to eat and see the Basilica di Santa Croce, but honestly, the biggest reason was to find Tivoli...the best gelateria in Florence.  Amazing.  Jeremy had pear-caramel, Patty had hazelnut-chocolate, Jordan had fantasia, Jackson had tiramisu, and I had orange-chocolate.  We had walked 10 miles yesterday, and nearly 15 today, so you see, you really CAN have gelato twice in the same day.  Jeremy and the boys head to Rome tomorrow. It has been wonderful spending time with them...I love their adventurous spirit.

Christmas in July

Christmas in July...a beautifully wrapped present with bows and glitter....that's what today felt like.  After a gourmet breakfast in Fabio's garden, Patty and I set out by foot to see Florence.  We were to meet Jeremy and the boys at the Duomo at 11:30.  We got there early, so we found the tourist information office and asked about tickets to the various museums.  We ended up deciding that, for us, it would be better to pay for each site.  Children under 14 are free, and though there is a surcharge if you want to book a reservation and thereby avoid the line, the lines seemed short and moved quickly, so we decided just to pay the basic entry fee.  For the Uffizi, that would be 11 euros per adult. We saw mimes outside the museum, in costume and make-up, which were pretty interesting.

Jeremy had said he would meet me at the Duomo ticket place...since there are three entrances to the Duomo, it would have been better to name an intersection at which to meet.  They were coming on the morning train from Pisa, so I should have had him text me when he got to the Duomo, but hindsight is always 20/20, isn't it?  I sent him two messages and waited in the piazza for an hour and a half.  I was almost ready to give up, when I saw a green baseball cap walk across the piazza with two backpack laden boys.  I whistled.  They turned.  I yelled, "Mama Mia, mi bambinos!". Christmas in July.

We walked to our B&B where they laid on the bed in the air conditioning for a good 10 minutes, then they left their backpacks and we walked to a nearby pizzeria for lunch.  We bought tickets for the Uffizi and spent nearly two hours walking through rooms filled with amazing art.  We saw pieces by Filippo Lippi, Botticelli's Birth of Venus and La Primavera, Caravaggio's Bacchus, and my favorite, Bellini's Lamentation over the Body of Christ.  Patty's favorite was Michaelangelo's Doni Tondo.  The Renaissance painters introduced depth in paintings along with emotion, and I feel richer for having seen them.  It was in the 80's outside, but the Uffizi was air conditioned and Jeremy showed Jordan just how good it feels when you find the main vent.

We walked back to our B&B by way of the Ponte Vecchia, the only bridge over the river Arno that wasn't destroyed during World War II.  All of that hard tourist work deserved a treat, so we headed to a gelato shop where we each had a double scoop.  Only Patty exhibited any manner of self control and that is because she had had a gelato when we were waiting for Jeremy.  She thought you couldn't have gelato twice in a day.  Really? 

Jeremy and the boys retrieved their backpacks and headed to their accommodations north of us.  We are going to meet them in the morning and go to the Leonardo Da Vinci Machine Museum.  Patty and I had enormous salads for dinner and are happily watching the World Cup match between the US and Belgium.  Ciao ciao.

Italian Train Schedules for Dummies

We enjoyed our night at Vilma's Bed and Breakfast in Sirmione, and made friends with her dog, Spritz. The 23 mile route for today was very direct, on busier roads, and therefore...yawn...not very scenic.  We wanted to get to Verona before noon because we were pretty sure that the train tickets we had secured online were not going to allow bicycles.  There was a steady flow of traffic, and the shoulder varied from a foot to five feet.  The Italian drivers are very good when it comes to cyclists.  Pete had told us they are required to give cyclists 3.5m when they pass.  I have not felt unsafe, period.  That said, when we approached Verona, I pulled a "deer in the headlights" move and took the second exit.  It "seemed" right, but actually took us on a busy road towards the airport (think hwy 14).  We got off at the first exit, took a deep breath, and asked the Garmin (I was thinking he ought to meet Siri) to take us to the train station.  15 minutes later we were at Verona Nuova and I went in to talk with an agent while Patty stayed with the bikes.

The line was long...at least 30 people and I noticed the ticket agents weren't exactly exuding sunshine. When it was my turn, I smiled and said "Buon Giorno".  And then, in halting Italian, I asked him if bicycles were permissible on the train I had tickets for.  "No".  I told him I would then need to buy two tickets, for me and my friend, and two tickets for the bikes...Verona to Florence.  He showed me his computer screen, I think I nodded, and gave him 40 euros.  I confirmed the departure time and the platform on which the train departed.  Phew...that wasn't so bad!  I was pretty proud of myself...smug, even.  I went back and showed Patty the tickets, smiling.  "What time does it get into Florence?" she asked.  "Uhhhh, I didn't ask".  She looked at the ticket.  "So, do we change trains in Bologna?" she asked.  "I'm not sure," I replied.

We took our bikes to the track where the train departed and discussed our strategy.  We could ask a train official as soon as we got off in Bologna.  We could even ask someone on the train.  I vaguely remembered his screen showing a 3:50 arrival in Florence.  Surely someone would know.  How hard could it be?

Pretty.Darn.Hard.  To start with, in all of the commotion of getting our tickets and then finding the correct track, we forgot to validate our tickets.  BIG no-no.  We could have been fined 50 euros.  The conductor overlooked our error...this time, but we decided he was probably not the one we should ask for help about our connection.  When we got off the train in Bologna, I stayed with the bikes and Patty went to find out about our connection to Florence.  She looked at the Arrival/Departure board...nothing seemed to fit.  So, she went into the station to talk to an agent.  When she came back, she said we needed the train to Prato where we would have to change trains again.  Really?  Where is that on my ticket?  Why didn't the ticket agent with the winsome personality at Verona tell me this?  All I could do was laugh.

We found the train to Prato, made the connection and landed in Florence around 5pm.  At some point, I'd like to read about the construction of the tunnels on the route from Prato to Florence.  The Italians are master tunnel makers and one that we went through had to have been 2 or 3 miles long.

Florence is a busy place, but we had good directions and made our way to Fabio's place with no trouble.  He has an interesting art collection and though he lives in the heart of the city, he has a beautiful garden where we will have breakfast in the morning.  We will be here for four nights.  It's nice to relax and not have to pack our stuff everyday.

We showered, then walked a short ways and had dinner.  We shared a couple of dishes...Sicilian bread with roasted vegetables and Burra cheese, ravioli stuffed with spinach, butter and sage.  And then...gelato.  I had fig and cream, Patty had cherry and pear.  

Tomorrow will be very special.  My son, Jeremy, and grandsons Jackson and Jordan will meet us at the Duomo to see the sights of this beautiful city.