Charlotte goes to Florence

I'm pretty sure Ira would rather I forgot this story, but I think it's too good not to tell.

The plan for today was to take Charlotte to Florence. Her mother had always told her how much she loved the city and remembered spending most of her visit looking up at beautifully painted ceilings. The trouble was, it was only a vague memory. She couldn't remember which building they were in or where in Florence she'd seen them. So one of Charlotte's goals for the day was simply to find some painted ceilings. She also wanted to eat at the same restaurant where we'd taken her brother and his family during our last visit.

Train tickets? Purchased in advance. Lunch reservation? Booked. All we had to do was get to the station.

The race to the train

We'd made this trip before and knew exactly how long it took to drive to the long-term parking lot near the station, so Ira had carefully worked backwards to decide when we needed to leave.

Unfortunately, Charlotte took a little longer than expected to get ready. 

By the time we finally left the house, we knew we'd be cutting it dangerously close. If everything went perfectly, we'd reach the parking lot just as the train arrived--and we'd still have to park and sprint to the platform. Missing it suddenly seemed very likely. 

While Ira drove like a champion, calmly shaving precious minutes off the drive, I pulled up the train app to see when the next one left. We mentally prepared ourselves to sprint from the parking lot, check which platform the train was using (thankfully Follonica only has three), and hope for the best.

Our one saving grace? Italian trains are rarely early--and often a little late.

We screeched into the parking lot two minutes before the scheduled arrival. Ira grabbed the first available space and the three of us took off running.

Charlotte and I waited at the bottom of the stairs, while Ira sprinted upstairs to check the platform. Seconds later he came flying back down.

"Platform One!"

We charged up the stairs and reached the platform just as the train rolled to a stop.

Perfect timing.

We climbed aboard, found our seats, caught our breath, and finally allowed ourselves to relax. We had made it.

Florence

From the station we headed straight to the Duomo and found a little cafe with a view. Charlotte needed a cappuccino and some people-watching--maybe even two cappuccinos. 

I, on the other hand, need to remember never to order a cornetto from these tourist cafes. It was disappointing. The cappuccio, which is what the cool kids call it, was good, and there was certainly no shortage of people to watch. 

I can say this because I'm Asian, but younger Asians have taken vacation photography to another level. We watched one young man and two women spend twenty minutes taking what must have been a hundred photos in three or four different spots. They weren't just taking pictures--they were producing content.

Sabbatical from photography

I, on the other hand, have taken somewhat of an opposite approach, call it a sabbatical from photography. Maybe "division of labor" is a better description.

I realized that taking, organizing, and storing thousands of photos was surprisingly draining. Ira enjoys photography far more than I do, and he's much better at composing shots. So when we got our new phones, I simply handed over the job.

Now whenever I think I might want a photo for the blog, I just ask Ira to take it. Later, when it's time to write, we sit down together, go through his photos, and I pick the ones I need.

It means, I can simply enjoy wherever we are without constantly reaching for my phone. Honestly, it's been incredibly freeing. 

So now you now--ever since our last trip to the U.S., every photo you've seen on the blog has been Ira's. 

Capucchi by the Duomo

Anyways, I digress. By now, Charlotte had finished her second cappuccino and was ready to continue her search for painted ceilings. We headed toward the Piazza della Signoria, where the Palazzo Vecchio reigns supreme.

Palazzo Vecchio

We thought there might be painted ceilings above Ira's favorite sculpture, Benvenuto Cellini's Perseus, but no such luck. Since the museums were closed, though, we took our time wandering around the square. It's a shame, really. There is so much to see in Florence that you never really feel like you've done any place justice.

Bronze Perseus but no painted ceilings 

by Benvenuto Cellini, 1554

Hercules and the Centaur

Marble statue by Giambologna, 1608

While I was standing behind Perseus, admiring the sculpture from a different angle, I noticed a steady stream of people walking into the Palazzo Vecchio. That struck me as odd since we knew the museum was closed. So I made the executive decision to follow the crowd. 

And would you believe it? We hit the jackpot.

Charlotte had said she didn't care which painted ceilings she found, only so she could report back that she saw them...in Florence. Although the museum itself was closed, the magnificent first courtyard was open, complete with beautifully painted ceilings. The giftshop was open too, making it a win-win/

Painted Ceilings in the First Courtyard of Palazzo Vecchio

With Charlotte's painted-ceiling mission officially accomplished, it was time to head to Paoli Antico Ristorante 1827, where we'd taken David and his family back in January. Charlotte had specifically asked to eat there, but unlike David's daughter, Zoe, she didn't arrive with a checklist of foods to try, nor was she interested in a bistecca alla Fiorentina. Instead we ordered a variety of dishes to share.

Painted Ceilings in Paoli

Tartare di Manzo

Guancia di Manzo al Chianti

Risotto con l'Ossobuco

Millefoglie con Crema

Lately we've adopted a new strategy when eating out. Between the two of us we order one antipasto, one primo, one secondo, one contorno and one dessert to share. That way we get to taste a little of everything without leaving completely stuffed. It's also easier on both the waistline and the wallet. 

After lunch it was time to move. So we walked towards Ponte Vecchio, but this time we walked along the Arno in the opposite direction than our previous visits. Standing on the bridge directly opposite gave us a different view of the famous Medici bridge.

Ponte Vecchio

It was hot though and there wasn't a lot of shade along the Arno, so we headed back towards the shopping and I made Ira look at men's clothes in the most heavily air-conditioned shops. Eventually, Charlotte announced she'd decided to buy a moka pot. After watching Ira make coffee with ours, she was was convinced she could master it back home. She ended up buying a beautiful one.

Charlotte's Mokapot

It was still hot and muggy outside, and we had a little time before our train, so naturally we ducked into a highly rated enoteca. They had air conditioning, clean bathrooms, sparkling water, and a nice glass of Vermentino. 

I was perfectly content to stay right there until it was time to walk back to the station.

The train ride home was uneventful. And since we weren't in the mood for a formal dinner, we took the opportunity to go back to our new favorite beachside spot, Sunny Hill Bar, or as the locals like to call it "Sanni Ill" and it gave us another chance to take Charlotte to the sea.

Sunset at Sunny Hill

And that brought us to the end of Charlotte's Day in Florence with all her boxes checked. The next morning she requested we repeat our walk in the country from two days before. After that we were left with just enough time to clean up, pack and drive her to Pisa to catch her flight back to Belgium where her son, Max was getting settled in for school. 

Before leaving Pisa we decided to explore a part of the city beyond the famous Leaning Tower. I'd seen a photo of a beautiful little church perched right along the Arno--the same river we'd admired the day before in Florence. 

Chiesa di Santa Maria della Spina

Closeup of Le Spine

Ira managed to get a nice close-up of the delicate stonework that gave the church its name. At first I assumed spina referred to the little spires decorating the facade. As it turns out, I was wrong.

Spina, in this case, actually means thorn. The church was renamed in 1333 after receiving what is believed to be one of the thorns from Christ's crown of thorns, which is still preserved inside a reliquary.

Well....that clears that up.

Time for lunch. On the other side of the river we found a highly rated panino shop and all the reviews were not wrong, they were delicious. But we should have shared a sandwich, oh well.

Panini from Dal Mozza

On our way back to the car we crossed another bridge over the Arno. On the opposite side I noticed what looked like a group of locals sitting outside enjoying gelato. 

Curious, I peeked inside. Instead of perfectly sculpted mountains of brightly colored gelato, I saw simple stainless-steel containers.

That's usually a good sign.

My benchmark flavour is always hazelnut, and this one did not disappoint. 

tuffo13 Gelateria

We sat outside enjoying our cones before making the short walk back to the car and driving home to Massa. 

It had been a whirlwind few days, but Charlotte flew home with every item on her Tuscan wish list checked off.

I'd call that a successful vacation.

Next stop: more adventures in Tuscany.

Ciao ciao!