October 16… bumpkins headed for the big city…

So generally we stick to the smaller towns and villages when we visit Italy. Cortona has been our home base since 1999. We relish the quiet countryside lifestyle and pace of things. The fresh simple food, the friendly shop keepers, the fields of sunflowers and olive trees and poppies and grapes. It is basic and restorative to our spirits and our souls. Every once in a while though a person just needs to kick it into high gear and do the big city thing… the big museums, the big sights, the big time. This year we decide to head into Florence for more than a couple of hours. We have rented an apartment right between the Duomo and the Uffizi. You couldn’t be more “in the middle of it all”.

After another of the worlds most wonderful breakfasts at Casa Chilenne (and a little left over birthday cake), we pack it up and head out of town. They say that all roads lead to Rome. In actuality all roads lead somehow to the A1 Autostrada which leads to Rome… or Florence if you turn left. We may not have taken the most direct rout to the A1 but inevitably we did get to it. About an hour and a half later we are taking the exit into the heart of Florence. This has some folks in the car a little anxious. We are scheduled to meet someone at Piaza Mazzanana who will then guide us to a parking garage where we will stash the car for the time we are in Florence.

Now this city isn’t like driving around the Val de Chiana or into some little village that no one has heard of so you can see a church that everyone has forgotten with a painting of a saint who’s identity would puzzle the Pope. Nope… this is wall to wall scooters, taxis, pedestrians and delivery vehicles and when I say wall to wall… there are a lot of walls. Tourists in cars… uh… not so much.

One minor missed turn and a circle back maneuver and we actually find our way to the piazza. Hey, this isn’t so crazy… he thought.

We are met by the lovely Grazia who was somehow able to pick us out of the crowd right away. I can’t imagine what it was about us that tipped her off that we weren’t locals. Grazia has pretty good English with just a few funny words for things… she jumps in the passenger seat and we are off to the “parking house”.

Now… the streets of Florence are beautiful for sure, but they are a bit narrow. We’ve got a thing called a Ford C-Max which is about the size of a Subaru Forester which when navigating the side streets near the Duomo, the Ponte Vecchio and the Uffizi, feels HUGE! Somehow we find our way to the parking house after a couple of detours due to construction and cars parked where they shouldn’t be (sheesh). Grazia walks us the couple of blocks to our apartment and gets us set up with keys and internet and tells us that we need to call the parking house before we go pick up the car on Thursday… which is when it dawns on me that I’m going to have to find my own way out of the city. Guess I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.

The apartment is amazing. My first reaction is, Ok, I’m staying here now… forever. Then I take a couple of steps toward the kitchen and my legs gently remind me of the 102 steps I just walked up from the street to the amazing apartment carrying two suitcases.

You can see Brunelleschi’s dome from at least 3 of the windows and the Palazzo Vecchio in the other direction. Inspiring! I think I could get used to those steps?

We settled in and start a load of laundry. Laundry in Italy takes about twice as long as washing machines in the US and there are rarely dryers. And, in the US there seems to be about 3 settings; cold, warm, hot. If you have a deluxe washer you might also get to choose between delicate and welding aprons. In Italy they apparently have settings for every contingency… silk scarves, cotton pants, left socks, right socks… hats… Sheesh. So with drying racks set out in the hallway we hope things will be dry before we leave at the end of the week.

After a little rest and freshening up we head out for dinner. Grazia has recommended a place a few blocks away called Buca Poldo. Oh my… what a find. It was down stairs from the street… basically in a basement, it was a little worn but in a comfortable and welcoming way. Our waiter was an enthusiastic fellow quick to make jokes and be a bit silly. Perfect for this group of goofs.

The food was simply phenomenal. I had the duck breast with sauteed onions, celery and hazel nuts and baked spinach with olive oil and garlic. It was melt in the mouth, eye rolling delicious. D. and Jack had the baked sea bass and Lynn had the ravioli stuffed with spinach and cheese. The house wine was a San Giovese blend that paired with the duck like … a duck to water.

One of the best meals in years.

Tomorrow I don’t know… maybe Boboli Garden and a gelato tour…

Random Italian Cat number 4. Don Gatto, head of the Gatto family. Olive oil exporters … yah… sure…