Abbiamo a Firenze

September 15, 2018

Witten Throwing Her Nose into the Arno

Another travel [half]day. We left Manarola at 8:40 a.m., took trains to La Spezia, Pisa Centrale, and finally Firenze Santa Maria Novella, where we arrived at noon on the dot. Florence is a zoo, and we’re all hoping that it’s cruise ship traffic (yes, Florence is two hours from the coast and still a major destination for awful cruises that ruin everything they touch). We grabbed a taxi to our hotel - B&B Galileo 2000 - to avoid walking a mile with our luggage through insanely crowded streets. The proprietor of the hotel is lovely, as is the hotel itself. It has an old-school level of character and ornateness that just screams “Florence.” Even E.M. Forster would be proud of our Room with a View.

It was a pretty laid back afternoon. We started by grabbing sandwiches at I Due Fratelli, which has been an institution in Florence since 1875. It’s little more than a storefront, but the sandwiches are second to none. Callie, my dad, and I all got wild boar salami and butter sandwiches. My mom got some vegetable nonsense to make herself feel better about the lack of greens in dishes over here, and Kati got a prosciutto, cheese, and rocket sandwich.

After lunch, we split up. Callie and my parents went off to do some shopping, while Kati, Witten, and I did some minor sightseeing. We started off at the Palazzo Vecchio, walked over to the Duomo, and up a few of the major drags, until we ended up right back at the Palazzo Vecchio to buy FirenzeCards, which I highly recommend doing. Witten then insisted on getting gelato (her new favorite food group), and picked out a mango one for herself that she then proceeded to finish.

For dinner, our plan was to go to a local pizza hotspot - Il Pizzaiuolo, which is right by the Università degli Studi di Firenze. I’ve heard that reservations - which we did not have - were essential for dinner, so we were concerned about our ability to get a table and went early. The restaurant was closer than I thought, so, even after meandering up the Arno and stopping in a few shops, we got there around 6:15, with 45 minutes to kill before Il Pizzaiuolo even opened. Luckily, the nearby Piazza Sant’Ambrogio was hopping. There was a local band called the Partners in Crime who had mastered the American hipster look, and played some really incredible Italian blues. We grabbed a table outside at a small enoteca, also called Sant’Ambrogio, and enjoyably passed the hour while Witten continued to nap in her stroller. At ten to seven, we walked over to Il Pizzaiuolo to get a table. The restaurant was empty and they were still setting things up, but a small crowd started to form around the entrance so I quickly asked them if they were open and if we could get a table without a reservation. No problem. The meal did not disappoint. We had an unbelievable burrata appetizer, some great Tuscan red wine, and some outstanding Neapolitan “deep dish” pizzas. (They’re only deep dish pizzas when compared to the traditional Italian pizzas that have virtually no crust on or under them). 

Santa Croce at Night

Our walk back was pleasant. The rest of the evening, however, was not. As I was looking for a power cord, I realized that I didn’t know where one of my small bags was - the one in which I kept most of my incidentals. Callie had been carrying it all day, and I’d checked in periodically to make sure she still had it, which she always did. I hadn’t, however, remembered seeing it at the hotel. I panicked . . . more and more as I remembered what was in there. The power cord for my laptop, my extra books, my rain jacket, my travel pillow, my iPod, my point-and-shoot, my headphones, my house keys . . . and my meds. This was not good, and definitely not a good way to end the night. I resolved to check with the hotel proprietor in the morning and, if she hadn’t seen it, to call the taxi company.

*Addendum - My bag is lost. The hotel staff hasn’t seen it, the taxi company doesn’t have it, and I have no idea where it could possibly be. It may be sitting on a train, it may have been picked up off of the side of the street, it could be anywhere . . . anywhere but here. This is all very frustrating.