Fodor's Travel Talk Forums - Trip Report 2001: A Maitaitom Italian Odyssey

<B>NEXT: Day 6 – Tower Flashback, Mary & Kim Escape The Taskmaster, The Real Gates Of Paradise, Chicken Sandwich Nirvana, Tie One On, Fabulous Firenze Viewpoint, How Did He Carry His Head That Far, In Chanting, Iris Eyes Aren't Smiling, Santa “Don’t Call Me Jim” Croce, Head For The Hills, I Only Scraped That Other Car and We Don’t Serve (But We Secretly Love) California Wine</B>

Tracy had already seen the Florence Duomo and climbed Campanile di Giotto on a prior trip, so she decided to sleep in after two late nights. After another nice breakfast at Hotel Hermitage, Kim, Mary and I headed over to the Duomo (Cathedral of Santa Maria dei Fiori) and Campanile di Giotto.

The highlight of the Duomo is, of course, Brunelleschi’s Dome, which we were hoping to climb up on this morning. The line was too long, so after wandering around the Duomo, we went next door to revisit my 1996 climb of Giotto’s Bell Tower, which, after navigating a mere 414 steps or so, affords one great Florence views, including a stupendous view of the nearby Duomo.

As we reached the top, I suddenly had a 1996 flashback. Tracy and I had seen the David on that trip, too, and that’s when Tracy first uttered her, “Looks like the one in Vegas” quote. A few minutes after Tracy and I had reached the top of Giotto’s Tower, we were joined by a tourist from the U.S. We all chatted for a bit, and I asked what her favorite Florence moment was so far.

She became rather emotional and answered, “When I was at the Accademia and first saw Michelangelo’s David, I fell to my knees and wept…it was so overpowering.” Suddenly the words “Las Vegas” jumped into my brain. I quickly glanced over to Tracy who looked like she might say something she would have regretted later. I whispered to her “if you say anything, I might have to kill you.” Instead we just nodded in agreement.

After our Giotto’s Tower tour, I went to roust Tracy from her sleep-in, while Kim and Mary must have felt like they received a reprieve from the governor and went on their own way for the day, free from the evil taskmaster, “Mr. 1,000 Stairs-A-Day.”

First, Tracy and I stopped at the museum where the real Gates Of Paradise are stored, but after climbing and descending more than 800 stairs, I was starving so we took a quick look, and we went in search of Florence’s most famous highlight…the chicken sandwiches at Caffé Giacosa (I misspelled it in my post from Day 4).

There were three chicken sandwiches left, and we bought all three of them. They were just as delicious as they were in 1996 (and also in 2005 when we went again). Sandwich heaven is simple: roasted chicken slices, light on the mayo and lettuce on a round flaky biscuit that basically is light as air. It sounds crazy, but I can still taste those sandwiches today in my mind.

We walked over a bridge to the Oltarno in search of a Napoleon engraving we had decided to pass on in 1996. The store was closed until 3:30, so we stopped in next door and bought a couple of really nice ties. I wonder if I still have those?

Next, we walked along the Arno heading ostensibly for some stairs that hopefully would lead us to the International Iris Festival (not to be confused with the International Retina Festival) that had been recommended by some people from New York, who we had met the previous evening at Ristorante Leo.

Up the stairs we climbed and climbed to the Piazzale Michelangelo, where we had some beautiful views back over Florence. We found the Iris Festival, and sadly it was not open. Before we could ask, “Who’s running this damned festival,” I told Tracy we must not be too far from San Miniato al Monte. “What’s that,” she asked?

I told her this is the spot that in 250 A.D, a man named San Miniato, who had recently been decapitated, took his severed head, ran across the Arno (no easy task in itself…head or no head), sang I Ain’t Got No Body and proceeded to lay down and die so they could build a really cool church. Keeping our heads about us, we walked to San Miniato. It was worth the effort.

There were more wonderful views of Florence from here, we visited the graveyard outside and then walked into this very lovely church. If memory serves me correctly (and Tracy’s notes), the church is run by Benedictine monks and even had a shop that sold Benedictine liqueur.

We really lucked out, because as we got there the monks began chanting. We sat on the chairs soaking in the sounds and the sun. We wanted to go to the church/convent next door (supposedly one of Michelangelo’s favorites, but it was closed.

Speaking of closed, back down at the Piazzale Michelangelo, the stupid Iris Festival was still closed to the public. We finally found a place where we could peer over a wall to look at the collection of Iris’s and were glad we didn’t pay anything, because it was a pretty pitiful display. But it did get us to the Piazzale Michelangelo and san Miniato, so I owe those crappy flowers my undying gratitude.

Trekking back down the hill, we stumbled (knowing us, probably literally) upon the Giardino delle Rose. This small garden, open for only six weeks in May and June, meandered down the hill back to Florence. It made up for the “International Lack Of Iris Being Open Festival.”

Crossing back across the Arno, we came upon Santa Croce. Since Tracy was wearing shorts, I had to go inside alone, while Tracy worked on her Florentine tan.

Coincidentally, Kim and Mary had visited here earlier in the day where they saw the Tunic Of St. Francis, who happens to be Kim’s favorite saint (his middle name is Francis). Hopefully, they’re not reading this, because a study in 2007 said the apparel at Santa Croce was made some 80 years after his death (spoilsports).

I wandered inside for a while and saw the tombs of Michelangelo, Dante and others, including that of Galileo, which made me want to sing from Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, but it seemed everyone was pretty quiet, so I left.

By now, wherever they were, I’m sure Kim and Mary were happy they weren’t with us because Tracy and I had some burning feet, but not enough to keep walking even more. We walked back to the Oltarno over the most famous Bling Bridge on earth, the Ponte Vecchio, where unbeknownst to us at the time Kim and Mary had purchased their daughter a ring. Tracy bought some jewelry on the Ponte Vecchio in 1996, so I blindfolded her and led her to the other side without having to spend any money.

Unfortunately, we soon parted with more lira at another antique store that had a very nice colored engraving of a German battle from hundreds of years ago. I guess I had lira burning a hole in my pocket, because we also had it framed and shipped. That engraving resided in a prominent niche in our living room until last moth when we had the room painted. Anyone interested in an engraving?

Then it was back across the Ponte Vecchio (by now Tracy was too tired and I was too broke to buy anything) to the Hotel Hermitage. After one of our famed 15-minute power naps, we showered and met Kim and Mary on the rooftop for our last Florence Happy Hour. By now we were well known by the staff, the patio pigeons that were hoping for a little discarded bread from their new American buddies and even nearby neighbors who waved to us from their apartments and wondered about our wine consumption.

On this evening, we would take a taxi to the hills above Florence to Trattoria Omero. Little did I know it might have been wise to purchase life insurance before our taxi ride.

Our cabbie made Steve McQueen look like a safe driver in Bullit as he sped through the streets and hills of Florence (think Gene Hackman in The French Connection), yapping on the phone and blowing through stop signs with abandon. He was the first guy I had ever seen who had more traffic violations than myself on a short drive. At one point, I kept thinking about San Miniato and worried we might suffer a similar fate.

As we neared the restaurant, I thought, “What can this guy do for an encore?” Fortunately he was up to the challenge as about five minutes from the restaurant he clipped a parked car.

Not surprisingly, he got us here early for our reservations (stop sign violations make for a quicker trip), so we walked around the area replete with expensive homes and high-walled gardens. The restaurant was charming with exposed brick walls, stone floors and beamed ceilings. I had requested the terrace that had beautiful views of olive groves.

It also had a familiar look to it. It turned out our St. Louis friends from Hotel Hermitage, Ron and Martha, were just about finishing up their dinner. Ron looked much better and didn’t seem to need anything on this night from Dr. Mary. They gave us some menu recommendations and casually mentioned they would be going to Venice next.

“Where are you staying,” Mary asked? When they answered Pensione Accademia, Mary said, “Wow, that’s where we’re staying, too.” At this point, Ron and Martha began checking out the Italian stalking laws.

Dinner at the Omero was as not as good as the views, but still some of the dishes were really good. I had my last Prosciutto e melone to start while Tracy tried some Baby artichokes drizzled with olive oil and slices of our new favorite cheese pecorino (foreshadowing alert).

Kim and Mary shared a salad of with greens with pecorino. Kim said he was in heaven. I added, “Our cab driver almost got us there first.”

Digression: I think it was more of a custom in 2001 to eat all the courses (or maybe we were just stupid and did that because we thought that was what we were supposed to do), so we ate lots and lots of food. Luckily I was skinnier in those days.

Next up was Tortellini stuffed with a meat and cream sauce for Tracy and me, while Kim and Mary opted for the ravioli topped with sage butter sauce (I think I still remember how good that was…yes, I stole one).

For the main course, three of us decided to go for the Specialty della Casa, which was fried chicken (Floentine style). Carlo, our very friendly waiter, recommended this dish (more on him later). Kim decided to go for the Veal Della Casa, a breaded, fried veal chop.

Unfortunately, the main course was the disappointment of the night. They were all pretty plain and devoid of much flavor.

The side dishes were better; fried veggies of baby zucchini and artichokes with some pommes frites, and a Tuscan special of white beans.

We’d come this far, so why not dessert? I had a very good Tuscan cheesecake topped with raspberries.

After dinner, scared that we might be killed on the taxi ride back to Florence, we decided to chat with Carlo a bit. It turned out he was studying to be a sommelier. He spent two weeks each year in Napa at Robert Mondavi. Although they didn’t have any California wines on the menu, he confided to us that despite that fact, Europeans have great respect for California wine. “Especially the zinfandels and cabernet,” he added. I hope he followed his dreams.

There were no near-death experiences on the way back to Florence, and when we entered the Hotel Hermitage, our main man Franco handed both couples a complimentary bottle of Chianti. I’m surprised the hotel had any left after our three evenings on the hotel patio.

Tomorrow morning we would be taking the train to Venice, a place I despised on our 1996 trip. To be fair, we had only spent the day there (I called it “Disneyland on speed”). People had told me that in order to enjoy and love Venice one has to spend and savor the nights after the crowds leave. That turned out to be very sage advice.

<B>NEXT: Day 7 – First Class Baby, An Oasis In Venice, Don’t Drink At Lunchtime, Hey I Like This City After All, On The Mark, Cocktails In The Garden, Fancy Seeing You Here, Sardinian Specialties, Yes Sir That’s My Baby and Mary Tries To Horse Around At Dinner</B>