bathtubs, public restrooms, and bidets

One of the biggest surprises about tourist sites in Italy is that admission for the kids is free.  Now, this isn't really saving big bucks in the grand scheme of things, but it is certainly a pleasant little savings.  Most of the entrances to tourist sites have a turnstile - like at an amusement park entrance - to count the visitors.  The ticket takers always ask that the kids duck under the turnstile.  While this is super fun for the kids, it makes me feel like we are cheating and doing something inappropriate.  The first couple of times we were told to duck the turnstile, the kids must have picked up on my nervous energy and looked at me with hesitation in their eyes.  But, now they just swing like little monkeys from the turnstile and happily enter the attraction.

We had some time to kill before Tom's arrival today, but we wanted to stay relatively close to the flat.  The kids clearly had some energy to burn (even after those 463 steps yesterday), so we went to the Pitti Palace and the Boboli Gardens.  Now, I don't generally love touring gardens so I wasn't super pumped up about this adventure.  But, I knew it was something that we had to check off our "must do" list.  We entered the gardens on the southwest (downhill) side.  This area of the gardens is more natural and less English/manicured.  There were lots of large trees and arbor-lined walks.  Florence, like many cities, doesn't really have a green canopy so the trees were a welcome reprieve from the heat that has finally settled down upon us.  

The girls had a lot of fun running along the meandering paths and discovering marble statues.  We happened on no less than four outdoor bathtubs - of which I made the kids jump into and pretend they were taking a bath.  I found these tubs a strange item to have in a garden, but I guess it really isn't that odd since so many of the statues depict people bathing or in phases of partial undress.  The centerpiece statues depict Neptune or make reference to him, so I guess there is a water theme going on here.  Which brings me to my next observation about the gardens - the water in virtually every fountain was slime green.  This certainly made a nice backdrop for the statues, with the contrast between the stark white marble and the nasty, green pond scum.  While some people may find this adds to the mystique of a place, I think it looks grotesque.  I mean, how hard is it to put a few pumps and filters on these babies and get that water looking good?  I guess if they charged admission for kids, they could afford those pumps!

Since we are on the topic of water and bathtubs, I should tell you about public restrooms.  There are no specific men's or women's restrooms - they are often shared by both in restaurants and trattorias.  The individual stalls are more like Fort Knox, so you don't have to worry about someone trying to sneak a peek of you whilst you are exposed.  And, I am happy to report that Italian men are able to "hit the porcelain."  So ladies, don't fall for that I can't control the stream excuse any longer.  

Our flat, like most personal homes and hotels in Italy, has a bidet.  The kids and I were betting to see who would be the first to try it out - and Bella won.  As she settled her cute little tush down on that plumbing fixture, Scarlett and I huddled around to cheer her on, no one knowing quite what to expect.  I thought the water would stream out with more pressure like a hose, but it comes out in a gentle flow (somewhat to our dismay).  Now, the knobs to turn on the flow of the water are adjacent to one's back, so you have to get the water flowing before you nestle down.  Then, you just sit on your throne and let the warm water trickle down the tush until you feel nice and clean.  It is a strangely odd, but enjoyable, experience.  

So from bathtubs, to restrooms, to bidets, the Zarcones continue to explore all that Florence has to offer!

42 to 463 to 1

Who needs a stairmaster? Italy is full of stairs and you have to climb them if you want to get anywhere.  There are 42 steps from street level to the front door of our flat.  We walk these stairs what seems like sixteen times a day.  The stairs are narrow, steep and waiting for me to wipe out on them.  It is really only a matter of time, and a couple of glasses of chianti!

One has to climb 463 steps to reach the top of the Cupola di Brunelleschi at the Duomo (Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore).  The Duomo is one of the most iconic landmarks in all of Florence.  Construction was begun in 1296, but not completed until 1436 when the dome of the cathedral was finished.  The dome is the largest brick dome ever constructed and has no visible interior supports.  The facade of the church was not finished until much later in 1887 and is a striking contrast to the minimalist interior of the buildings, save the stunning ceiling mosaics and frescos.  

This morning the girls and I decided that we had practiced enough on our 42, and it was time to tackle those 463 steps of the Duomo.  Now, I jokingly refer to myself as a "fit fat girl"  but I knew that I was going to have my work cut out for me to keep up with Bella.  She is like a thoroughbred charging out of the starting gates at all times - and she would run up those stairs at a full sprint, muscles rippling, if I didn't reign her in.  Scarlett is no schlep either, but she is much less competitive.  So, I knew she would rather be with me than leave me in the dust.  

As we started our ascent up the initial stairwell, I was extremely thankful that I am not claustrophobic.  The passage was narrow, but not oppressive.  It alternated back and forth between straight flights and spiral climbs.  As we stopped at a landing around step 160, I took silent joy in the wheezing coming from the 20-somethings behind us.  I congratulated myself for not being a smoker and charged on (behind my little race horses).  By the time we reached step 463, I admit to having a little sweat dripping down my back.  The final 10 steps were nothing short of treacherous (more like climbing a ladder), but we were rewarded with a panoramic view of the city.  Scarlett noted how the terra cotta roofs seemed to go on forever.  

I didn't count the steps from the Duomo to Yellow Bar, where we had linner.  This is what we call a meal that serves as both lunch and dinner.  I swear that each meal we have gets progressively more delicious, either that or we are getting more comfortable and creative with our selections.  Chianti is the wine of choice in most restaurants and they often have a house label which simply means fabulous wine with a dirt cheap price tag.  The last number that you need to know is one - that is the number of drinks purchased for me today by Italian men who are NOT my husband.  Good thing Tom arrives tomorrow afternoon so he can keep an eye on me!

From Trash to Treasures

Trash disposal in ancient cities may have been an afterthought - at least until the plagues.  Modern Florentines, however, have developed a trash system that makes my kids WANT to take out the trash.  In the U.S., we haul our gigantic cans to the curb on a weekly basis, stuffed to the brim with discarded has-beens.  Trash can size seems to be the measure of conspicuous consumption as neighbors try to keep up with the Joneses.

In Florence, there is no weekly garbage pick up.  Florentines seem to favor personal responsibility and make you take your garbage to local collection bins.  Every few blocks, there are garbage dumpsters or diminutive trash compactors.  Households (and businesses) are expected to carry their bags of trash to these collection points.  The trash compactors call to my children like bugzappers to flying pests.  They just want to push down on the foot pedals that open the mouth of the beast.  Small garbage trucks then come around and empty the bins at the central collection points.  Florentines have smaller garbage bags and generally create less trash per capita (having to carry your own trash down the street definitely incentivizes efficiency).  One also sees very little litter - again the personal responsibility thing (pick up after yourself dip-shit).

Another thing that Florentines seem to have mastered is recycling.  Along with the centralized collection points for garbage are recycling bins.  These gigantic containers scream out for the assemblage of things such as tetra paks.  If you don't know what a tetra pak is, look it up and know that they are next to impossible to recycle in the U.S. at this point.  Ah the Italians, always so very ahead of the Americans.

As much as Florentines seem to have figured out how to keep problems associated with trash and blight at bay, they also understand the importance of preserving historical treasures.  Today the kids and I explored the Museo Galileo.  As you might suspect, the Museo Galileo is dedicated to the mathematical and astronomical achievements of Galileo Galilei.  Galileo was responsible for advances in physics as well.  However, he is most famous for his refining of the telescope and related celestial observations.  The museum held a number of maps and globes - and it was very interesting to see how the perception of earth and space morphed over time.  One of the centerpieces of the museum is a gigantic armillary sphere (a representation of the earth and the celestial bodies that orbited around it).

Galileo was ultimately tried for crimes against the church and imprisoned for his beliefs that the earth was not the center of the universe.  While many of Galileo's original works have been lost, the Museo Galileo holds two original telescopes created and used by the genius (from around 1610).

Whether an item is deemed trash or treasure is often determined by the person who currently has possession of the item.  Many of Galileo's works were deemed trash and destroyed by the Church after he questioned the long held beliefs that were the basis of many scriptures.  The irony of it may be that Galileo's inner-most thoughts and beliefs were preserved through a series of letters with one of his illegitimate daughters who lived her life as a nun.  One of the most interesting artifacts at the museum is the bones of Galileo's middle finger.  Many suggest that the middle finger is either pointing to the sky that he loved and studies so ferociously or being flipped to the Church in eternal defiance. 

People watching

In the Jack Johnson song that so many of us know there is a line that says "I'm just people watching other people watching me."  In a melting pot city, such as Florence, it is a people watcher's paradise.  Now, let me just preface this post by saying that I know I must be comical to watch at times as I try to keep the kids from whacking into a stranger, getting hit by a bus, or sissy fighting with each other (this usually starts as some sort of benign hand slapping game).  But, people watching is in my blood.  My paternal grandmother could tell you the date and time anyone entered or exited a house on their street - her curtains were NEVER closed.  And, my maternal grandmother was just plain in everyone's business.  I would go into detail about other living family members, but they may disown me (and I like them).

I have to admit to being completely shocked that the Florentines aren't the most exciting people to watch.  I expected to see chic, scantily clad women stolling the streets (not that chic and scantily clad have to go hand in hand).  Florentines, however, are practically more covered than the Amish!  I feel like the one being risque when I wear khaki shorts.  Now, I knew coming into this trip that Florentines tend to dress with their arms and legs covered, even in the summer.  But, for some reason all of those fashion magazines I read as a teen must have brainwashed me from fully absorbing this information.  So, I have very quickly learned not to judge the weather or temperature by looking out the window to see how others are dressed.

The more touristy areas of town, however, are a whole other ball game!  I am still undecided whether French or Asian tourists are my favorite because neither tends to give a shit whether you are looking at them.  Today, I actually tried to take my first "discreet" iPhone picture of a stranger because I knew Tom would never believe me when I described the person.  As the girls were riding the antique wooden carousel (la giostra) in the Piazza della Repubblica, I noticed two men who were begging me to look their way.  I was fascinated by them, fixated on their every move.  I really thought Bella may catch on and start to point at them (and when she points at things she uses her middle finger - it is my punishment for the beast I know I have created).

But, my favorite people watching came this morning as we got to video chat with family.  For my technologically inclined friends, this may seem like no big deal.  But, I NEVER thought I would see the day when MY parents would video chat.  I am pretty sure that my mom doesn't know how to turn on the tablet.  And, my Dad is new to the "smart" technology world - but he is trying!  Regardless, there is nothing that brings me more joy than having a talk with my mom where we don't really talk about anything in particular.  My mom and I were giggling and giving each other "jazz hands" from two worlds away.  While voice communication is great, I know that actually seeing us gave my Mom some level of comfort that we were safe and sound.  And, isn't that the reassurance that every mother needs.

After we Skyped with my parents, we FaceTimed with Tom's parents.  Now, Tom's parents are techwizards  for their age demographic.  We FaceTime with them on a pretty regular basis, even when we are home.  Sometimes one of the kids will just want to say "I love you" or play a song on an instrument for them.  So, they indulge us with our unscheduled interjections into their days.  Seeing as how Tom's parents have traveled to Italy on a number of occassions, I know they too are craving tidbits about our daily experiences.  They are dying to know the steps we have taken and the things we have experienced - it lets them feel like they are here with us.

As one of the most social creatures on the planet, humans were designed to people watch.  Sometimes we gain information or learn new ways of doing a task from observing others.  People watching can also give you insight into a culture or what your family is doing back in the States.  But, most of all it is just fun to be nosey when you are passing time.

Some things are the same where ever you go

Some days one is struck by how everything is so different.  Today I was struck by a number of universal truths.

1. Everyone loves a good farmers' market.

The Mercato Centrale is as much of a feast for the eyes as it is for the stomach.  The market is housed in a rather "new" building for Florentine standards - it only dates back to 1874. The stands sell fresh fruits and vegetables, smoked meats, breads and pastries, olive oil, and alcohol.  While most people recognize that fresh food is best, Italians seem to have mastered this concept.

2. Getting a 7 year old to eat a balanced meal is next to impossible.

Scarlett proved the toughest customer in the Mercato Centrale.  Now, we all know that 7 year olds are finicky eaters but my little fruititarian wasn't budging about what would satisfy her needs.  She thumbed her nose at every meat stand, and Scarlett is a HUGE fan of the smoked meat family (I think it was the fact that a number of the carcasses still had their heads and were staring at her from the refrigerated case).  Fortunately, the market had a few stands that specialized in dried fruits.

3. It rains everywhere - even when you are on vacation.

I assumed that the weather may not be perfect every day, but I hadn't actually executed a plan for foul weather.  The only thing on my packing list that didn't ultimately make it into a suitcase was a mini-umbrella.  When we checked into our flat, I was relieved to see two substantial umbrellas sitting by the door.  As we ventured out this morning, I failed to grab those umbrellas (even with the sub-par forecast) because another universal truth is that you never have an umbrella when you REALLY need one.

4. A rainy day doesn't have to be a washout.

From our flat we could see that some blue sky was trying to squeeze out from behind the clouds.  So, I gathered the girls and gave them the "let's go have another adventure" pep talk.  We decided to expore our neighborhood a little more with an impromptu urban hike.  We spotted a castle-like stone keep that was yearning to be explored.  The markers indicated that it was part of the Piazzale Michelangelo.  The kids were determined to make it to the top of the trail and navigated it like little billy goats.  We were rewarded with an unexpected, but magnificent, view of the city center.

5. Comfort food is comforting.

After making the kids trek all over the city, we were ready for some comfort food.  On our adventure, we discovered a trattoria just down the street from our flat (which was good because we were too tired to go very far, even for food).  The menu was in English and included foods that were well-known, much loved dishes served often by my mother in law.  The girls were so hungry they each had two servings of lasagne.  I drowned myself in mushroom risotto and chianti to celebrate the 7 year old eating like a champion!

Pinocchio and gelato

As those of you who are literary geniuses know, Pinocchio was born in the Tuscan sun.  The original author of Pinocchio, Carlo Lorenzini, wrote the story as a series of short adventures - apparently always killing off Pinocchio in various ways.  Now, this version of the story was news to me.  Being an ignorant American, I am really only familiar with the Walt Dinsey (rainbows and butterflies) version of the story in which the naughty boy learns his lesson and is transformed into the loving son of Geppetto.  But, Italians seem to have a sense of pride in the Pinocchio story.  For as we were meandering around the city today, we saw lots of Pinocchio marionettes for sale to tourists.

But, our most exciting brush with Pinocchio came today in the form of a horse.  There is a bit of a running joke in the Zarcone family about me making my mother in law ride in a carriage pulled by a donkey in Mexico.  So, when I found out that one of the best ways to get an overview of Florence is by horse-drawn carriage, I knew that the girls and I would have to see the city this way.

Because we are working hard to get the lay of the land, I also thought this would be a great way to really cover some ground.  And, the horse that had the pleasure of lugging us around the city was named Pinocchio.  Now, Pinocchio was a sweet and trusty steed, but he apparently doesn't like Japanese tourists anymore than we do for he almost picked one off as he charged up a slight hill with a full head of steam.

Everyone knows that the moral of Pinocchio is that one should not tell lies.  Well, I am NOT lying when I tell you that I didn't buy myself any gelato today.  I did, however, sneak in a number of "clean up" licks on the kids' cones.  While ice cream was a staple in the Snell house growing up, it isn't one of my favorite desserts.  Well friends, there may be a problem now that I have met gelato!  A local gave us a recommendation for what she considers the best gelateria in Florence (and it is about 2 blocks from our flat).  I knew we were in the right place because everyone around us was Italian (not a tourist in sight - except, of course, for us).  Scarlett picked chocolate and Bella got vanilla chip (which was vanilla with ribbons of chocolate).  The gelato was so smooth and had an almost light quality to it.  The kids kept arguing with me to give them their cones back - they think the "clean up lick" is just a ploy for me to eat their gelato.  They may be on to me!

I am again reminded of the story of Pinocchio as I reflect on our day and write this post.  Some literary scholars suggest that the character of Geppetto is put in the story to remind readers of the power of the human connection.  While Florence is a heavily populated city and bustling with many visitors daily, what makes our adventures here so special is that we get to share them with each other (and with you).

Jet lagged and feeling good

Rarely does one couple the words "jet lagged" with "feeling good."  But, having arrived here in Florence one can't help but feel that they have been transported to a magical world.  One of the main things that has struck me is how seamlessly people transition from speaking on language to another - and I don't just mean between Italian and English.  Around every corner someone is speaking Spanish, French or German too.  I had someone ask me for the time in French, and if my brain would have been working faster I probably could have answered in French.  But, alas, I am JET LAGGED so I had to reply in English.  At least I knew what he said to me!

But, I digress.  Back to the jet lagged part of my post.  The kids did a great job traveling - staying close in busy places, being patient in the face of exhaustion, and even sleeping on the plane (though I do admit to slipping them some Benadryl).  My mother in law has always called them little gypsies because of their ability to travel long distances.  Minus the hot pants and the sequins, she is right!

Once we arrived in Florence, we went right to our flat. As we were driven through the city, I was reminded how all "big city" driving is the same - heavy on the gas AND the brake.  I am feeling relieved that we didn't rent a car for our trip and will be walking everywhere.  The city is so pedestrian friendly even though the sidewalks are minuscule.  Fortunately, the drivers tend to work navigation of pedestrians into the "braking" part of their driving.  But, I am a little nervous about one of the city buses tagging a kid.  We are working hard and fast on spacial awareness!

Once we got settled into our flat and took a few minutes to just collapse, I drug the kids out into the city to explore by foot.  The best way to fight jet lag is to just keep going and to try to acclimate to the time zone in which you have arrived.   I always admit to being geographically challenged which must be why I am married to a guy who majored in geography in college (it is nature's way of taking care of me).  Fortunately, Bella and Scarlett have both inherited their daddy's "map in the brain."  So, as we left the front door, I really contemplated taking a picture of the street with my iPhone (kind of like what you do in a parking garage so you can find your car at the end of a long day).  Instead I just dropped a pin in my mapping app to note our front door and told Bella to remember the church across the street as it is going to be our beacon for safe returns.  And off we went!

We zigged and zagged our way through the small cobblestone streets getting the lay of the land in our new neighborhood.  After stopping on the bank of the Arno River to take in the magesty of the arched bridges, we stopped to oogle at the intense game of pick up soccer happening in the local park.  The pitch was more similar to a clay tennis court than a soccer field.  The players were slip sliding all over the place but the shots on goal were no joke - I am really hoping that one of these guys will help Bella master a rollback because that seemed to be the offensive move of choice.  

Next we moved on to the neighborhood market to grab some breakfast food.  I am fascinated by the small, local stores every where we look.  I think it is interesting how people who live in a city seem to shop more often and get what they need on a daily basis.  Everything is always fre h, fresh, fresh.  Whereas, those of us who live further out of town and rely upon a car go for those "fill up the trunk" trips to supermarkets and mega stores.  Anyway, as we ventured into this neighborhood market, I was very consious of the fact that me and two tired, jet lagged kids were going to have to carry anything we purchased for a few blocks until we got back to our flat.  So, we settled on the standard Italian breakfast of fresh fruit and croissants!  

As we made our way back to the flat, we slipped into the small market a few doors down from our new home base.  The market had every crevice of space filled with amazing food - prepared and pre-packaged.  Things were literally hanging from the ceiling!  The refrigerated case was filled with prepared pasta delights that were making my mouth water - we settled on a HUGE hunk of eggplant parmesan, proscuitto tortellini, ragu, and a huge hunk of the chewiest bread.  Once I figured out how to operate the oven, we had ourselves a feast.  I loved that the kids were quick to suggest that we needed to find some olive oil in which to dip the bread.  A quick trip to the pantry, and we were set!  Once our bellies were full and we were punch drunk from the jet lag, I figured it was time to get those little ladies tucked into bed.  So, as I sit here reflecting on the day I too am feeling jet lagged, but also feeling really good and quite fortunate to be having this journey.