From Italy with Love & Limoncello

This blog was actually started following a 2011 trip to Italy. After many requests and some extra tidbits added, a book has now been released to detail the events of this adventure. Available now in paperback, Kindle and Nook formats, readers can travel with us along this amazing journey. From Italy with Love & Limoncello will warm your heart as you sing, dance, dine and shop with us throughout three regions of Italy. Come on along and join us for the vacation of a lifetime in From Italy with Love & Limoncello! Visit http://www.awriterspresence.com for links to all formats and various purchase options. Ciao!

Florentine Journey

Florentine Journey:

We arrived at the River Arno bridges again and located the section featuring the jewelry stores. They were teeny, tiny shops where more than five occupants would constitute a crowd with an oxygen deficit. The girls investigated the merchandise options, but decided that their favorites were generally rather pricey and they might fair better in NYC.

Laura was further pursuing the possibility of a purchase while Sharon, Marianne and I were more interested in finding a place to sit for a few minutes. The search for available seating is like a treasure hunt, and we eventually spotted a couple who were looking ever so comfortable on a second level balcony that overlooked the streets and shops. As a bonus, it was affiliated with a gelateria. It looked so inviting, we left Laura in the jewelry store and walked over to order a snack. The gelato servings were huge, and Marianne was being so good, ordering a fresh fruit cup instead. We loved sitting on this balcony that overlooked the constant flow of shoppers on the street below. I noticed a gathering of police on the corner, but couldn't detect any evidence of a threatening issue of any kind. The large group of officers just seemed to be hanging around.

Completing her jewelry shopping, Laura joined us and we once again set out walking. We hadn't traveled far when we approached a crowd of people who were following two young girls. These young ladies were surrounded by a camera crew and body guards. What was going on here? It seems that we had stumbled upon Snookie and Sam from The Jersey Shore reality show. Marianne had heard that they were filming in Florence, but we had no idea we would run smack into the shoot. The Jersey Shore girls stopped at a corner vendor and purchased some items as the cameras rolled.

We were fascinated and stopped to observe, taking a few photos. A large group of spectators had formed, and the crew requested that the audience not just stand there staring. The female crew member located by us kept saying, "It's going to look weird if everyone is just standing here. Sweep.....sweep..." she would say, motioning with her flailing arms to keep everyone moving and not stuck in the same spot. Most people weren't really cooperating with her requests, however. She turned to Sharon and me and said, "Look what my life has become!"

We began snapping photos, and a huge body guard positioned himself between the girls and my camera. He said, "Just take a photo of me!" So I did. I'm sure they have trouble distinguishing between the curious tourist and the serious paparazzi whose intention is to sell their photos to the tabloids. We did manage to capture a few photos in spite of their protests.

Trudging on foot back to the hotel to freshen up, we were literally putting miles on the soles of our shoes! I was wishing that I had brought my pedometer so I could see exactly how far we were walking every day. I may have said this before, but that thought frequently entered my mind.

Following a short rest, shower, and change of clothing, we began walking once again toward the area of the various piazzas to find a suitable location for dinner. We chose Il Grande Nuti, located on Via Borgo San Lorenzo, which turned out to be another lovely outdoor dining experience. Sharon and I decided on a pork steak special, just a touch dry, but not bad. Laura opted for steak and Marianne tried the salmon. Once again, the local house wine was an appealing choice.

During our after-dinner walk through the squares and piazzas, we were constantly approached by young guys who were launching these bright and sparkling whirling things they were selling. It actually became annoying because they would aim them to land right at your feet. They were pretty decent about taking no for an answer, however. Then there was the young girl selling scarves. She walked along with us, targeting Marianne to buy one of her selections, and the further we walked away from her, the lower the price became. When she reached 3 Euro, Marianne finally relented and bought the scarf. It was a nice choice, and the price was right. Frequently, we did find that with street vendors, our lack of interest could reduce the price.

By the end of the evening, we were really exhausted again. I believe it will take a few days to adjust to the jet lag/time difference issue. It's almost as though your brain is foggy--sort of like it's too difficult to concentrate on anything that involves intricate details. I found it practically painful to try to look at our map with the tiny print.

Upon returning to our hotel, we all went to our respective caves, closed our doors and settled in for the night.

Thursday, May 19, 2011:

The safe in my room wasn't functioning, so I have been using Sharon's. I called the front desk to see if they could fix it so I won't have to keep bothering Sharon every time I want to get in and out of the safe. The maintenance person diagnosed the problem and had it fixed within seconds. It needed a new battery.

The maid must have removed Sharon's wash cloth along with the towels, but she wouldn't admit it. Sharon attempted to communicate with her in hopes of having it returned, but that simply wasn't going to happen---ever. It's like the maid had no idea what Sharon was trying to convey or she's just pretending not to know. It's difficult to tell.

We ventured back to the leather market area today, purchasing some handbags, scarves, and other souvenirs. We ate a delicious light lunch in one of the restaurants behind the vendor booths. The sandwiches were on some sort of very light bread, and the ingredients were ever so fresh. It was just enough food to fill us without making us feel bloated.

There was one particular oriental scarf vendor who displayed a variety of examples of interesting scarf tying methods. With lightning speed, he could create a sophisticated look. We asked him to take it slowly and start at the beginning so we could follow his styling process and...oh dear....perhaps even remember how he accomplished this. We concurred that we would literally have to practice in order to duplicate and perfect the scarf arranging skills that he attempted to impart to us. We all talked about how we have scarves at home, but don't often bother with them because it takes too much time and effort to fuss with them to get them just right before dashing out the door.

"Don't be afraid of the scarf," Sharon offered.

"That's right--do not fear the scarf," reiterated Laura.

Tomorrow, our oldest granddaughter, Gabriella, is going with a guy friend to his Senior Prom, so I called and left her a voice mail so she would know I was thinking of her. I know she'll look gorgeous, and I wish I could see her in her gown and up-do in person. I sure hope she emails some photos to me! Although I'm having a great time in Italy, I keep thinking about her going to her first prom--and how quickly they grow up in the blink of an eye.

Walking, walking, walking....

The Cathedral of Florence

Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore
Facade started in 1296 and mostly
completed in 1469

Still Tuesday, May 17, 2011 in Florence:

We wandered just a short distance from our hotel, spying a lovely restaurant with an outdoor cafe--Ristorante Coccodrillo on Via Della Scala. Coccodrillo means crocodile in Italian, but we weren't looking for any menu items with crocodile as an ingredient.

The bruschetta was refreshing with enormous chunks of tomato, sprinkled with basil and spread on tasty bread, drizzled in olive oil and a hint of garlic. We had ordered an appetizer tray with a variety of samples including some pate concoction that no one was really crazy about, along with other items that I can't even recall because I didn't write them down. I was so tired, I felt almost dazed. I could easily have made a meal of the bruschetta alone, but chose lasagna with meat sauce. This selection was surprisingly light--just right, not leaving me with an overstuffed sensation. We had been advised in advance to always order the local or regional house wine, and this choice did not disappoint us.

There was a cozy, snuggling, older couple at the next table who were constantly looking over at us. I wondered if we were talking too loudly or bothering them in some way. When Laura and Marianne went inside to locate the ladies' room, Sue, the female from the next table, came over and introduced herself, apologizing for staring. She said that I look exactly like her niece. She and her husband were visiting Florence from Australia--a 20 hour flight--and they would be leaving tomorrow. Having just experienced our arrival today after flying during the night, I can't even fathom a 20 hour flight. It must seem like an eternity. I think I would get mighty antsy.

The restroom proved to be a bit of a challenge. Remember, we were all still jet-lagged and dealing with a 6 hour time difference. Sharon and I marched into the restroom and were greeted by a large sink area and mirrors. We saw a smaller room with stalls and proceeded, each separately wondering why the toilet seats were in the "up" position. I completed the intended task, washed my hands at the large sink with mirrors, and applied fresh lipstick. We suddenly noticed that a tiny plaque on the entrance door to the smaller room we just exited was the symbol of a person wearing pants. Uh oh...then we saw another adjoining room that had a symbol depicting a person wearing a skirt. Too bad we weren't alert enough to see these miniature signs before we inadvertently used the men's room, and we were thankful that no men came into that restroom while we were in the stalls. We decided that we probably needed to be more observant, which would be easier after a good, solid night's sleep.

We agreed that Ristorante Coccodrillo was a good find, as the food was delicious, our waiter, Donnie, provided exceptional service, and the wine was exactly what we were looking for--not too sweet, not too dry. Now it was time to walk off the calories. Inquiring with a few passersby regarding how to reach the River Arno, we achieved very little success in obtaining dependable directions. We set out walking, walking, walking until we finally located the river. While we did have a map from the hotel, it was difficult to understand due to the fact that we weren't even sure where we were located on the map! Looking at it was almost a dizzying experience because it showed a myriad of streets, the names of which were printed in the tiniest font known to man. We were wishing we had a magnifying glass to study it. Tomorrow, we will determine the hotel's exact location on the map, and then we should have a better sense of direction. Maybe! I'll be the first to admit that I probably have the worst sense of direction of anyone I know.

When we reached the River Arno, it was nearing sunset, but we were able to take a few photos. An interesting fact--the Arno overflowed its banks and flooded Florence on November 4, 1966, killing 40 people and damaging/destroying countless works of art and rare books. There were some stores in this area, but they were not open by the time we arrived there. We will make it a point to return to this same place again during the daytime. Let it not be said that we missed a shopping opportunity in Florence!

Once again walking, walking, walking, we found our way back to the hotel, rode the elevator like a bunch of zombies, and proceeded to our individual boudoirs to crash for the night. Tomorrow's another day, and much sightseeing and shopping awaits us. Day after tomorrow, Marianne has prearranged a Tuscany wine tasting tour for us, but until then we will be content to attempt to get our bearings, explore, dine and what else????.......shop!!

Wednesday, May 18, 2011:

I awoke at 6:00 a.m. Italy time---and I mean wide awake. I couldn't wait to explore Florence. I showered, dressed and watched some CNN, which was fine, but it seemed to be rather repetitious, as I kept hearing the same stories over and over again. While I was waiting for the other girls to be ready to face the day, I was watching the flurry of activity on the street below. People were rushing to get to work, and there were so many small motorcycles and scooters that would zip in and out of traffic. As I surveyed the scenes before me from my large window, I noticed that there had been an accident between a bicycle and a scooter, with the cyclist still stretched out on the busy highway. Traffic began to snarl as buses, cycles, scooters and cars attempted to avoid the accident scene and not run over the injured victim. Eventually, the ambulance arrived and transported the girl to receive medical attention, but they left the bicycle and scooter in the street exactly as they had been positioned during the accident--apparently pending the arrival of an investigator. In the interim, all of the traffic was backed up for a long distance as they formed a single lane to navigate around the accident scene.

We were all ready to go in search of food, and we spied a small coffee shop on the corner very close to our hotel. We had to quickly learn coffee bar protocol, another new experience for us. We found out that we had to browse the bakery items first in order to view our choices. Next, it was a walk to the cash register to pay for what we intended to order. Sounds simple, but wait just a minute. There were decisions to be made. Were we planning to sit at a table, stand at the counter, or take our items to go? The price to be charged was dependent upon our selection of these available options, an escalated fee being levied to dine while seated at a table. Good to remember--having a place to sit comes with a price! Receipt in hand, one goes back to the pastry counter to order the item paid for and then on to the coffee bar section to order the beverage already purchased. We chose to sit at a table and collect our thoughts regarding our anticipated agenda for the day.

Re-fueled and invigorated to the degree possible, we located a small grocery store across the street and purchased the items that we would want immediate access to over the next few days while staying in Florence. It was going to be nice to have our own supply of liquid refreshments, snacks and fruit rather than having to chase them down at every turn. The store was so small and had the narrowest aisles. It took us a little while to make our selections, as there was obviously no brand recognition here. The grocery carts were these tiny contraptions that looked like miniature orange crates on wheels, and we were trying to compose ourselves because we didn't want to be making fun of the Italian grocery carts and create an international incident. Depositing our treasured items back in our rooms where we had small refrigerators, we set out on a walk that would take us across the street once again, but to an opening leading to underground shops which eventually connect with the train station.

Wandering through a few stores, mostly those selling shoes and handbags, Marianne was the first to make a purchase--an adorable pair of turquoise sandals with a sweet decorative flower/design along the top. We readily noticed that the shoe styles were fabulous and distinctly different from what we are accustomed to seeing in our stores, and they truly were not overpriced.

After scouring the underground stores for potential acquisitions, we headed for the outdoor leather market vicinity, about which we have heard so many favorable comments. Laura had been waiting for this moment since the trip plans began to formulate! While the leather coats were just amazing, with the leather being so soft it felt like butter in your fingertips, we were also fascinated by vendor after vendor offering magnificent scarves. A huge percentage of the population we encountered seemed to be wearing some form of a stylishly tied scarf. This included several men that we casually observed. We carefully checked out the belts, handbags, various leather goods, jewelry and trinkets that serve as nice souvenirs. I am one of those people who wants to see all of my options before I decide what to buy. I could shop and shop until my feet ache, but until I'm ready to make a purchase, I am content to look at all of the merchandise.

In one of the piazzas, there were postcards for sale and Sharon decided to purchase a couple. As she was reviewing her choices, she came across one selection that offered an enhanced view of the private parts of Michelangelo's David. We couldn't help laughing and commenting, because who would actually want to buy one of these postcards and send it through the global mail? To top that one, Marianne spotted one that took ludicrous to an entirely new level. The private parts were wearing sunglasses! That pretty much sent us over the edge with laughter. There were even bookmarks with the same scene. Would our husbands pose for a similar photo shoot? We didn't think so.

Our next goal was to work our way back to the River Arno bridges. We knew there were stores in that location that were just waiting for us to make an appearance. What we expected to see there were New York City diamond district-type goods, but what we actually encountered was an astonishing surprise!!

Rome to Florence

Still May 17, 2011:
Laura and Marianne negotiated a fixed price for the taxi ride to Termini--smart idea so we aren't driven all over creation when it is actually a 16 mile drive between points. That being said, after squeezing us and our luggage plus carry-ons into a very small taxi, the driver proceeded to cart us all over Rome. We couldn't move a muscle, as this Fiat van was beyond tiny. The vehicles we'd seen so far in Rome were all compact, as they have to be able to navigate the narrow streets. We zipped through the congested city traffic, and we noticed many Smart Cars, Fiats, motorcycles and scooters.

Sharon, Marianne and Laura were shoulder to shoulder in the back seat of this miniature vehicle, while I was seated in the front with a suitcase lodged between the driver and me. He had to reach around my large piece of luggage in order to shift the gears of this manual transmission. We began to wonder how much longer this ride to Termini could possibly last, and the driver seemed to be taking us past every historic site in Rome. He probably thought he was doing us a big favor, but this was really close quarters. Laura finally asked him how much further we had to go, and he deposited us at Stazione Termini a few minutes later.

We got our bearings in the station and located the agents from whom we would purchase our train tickets to Florence. We went through the process, showed our passports and paid 63 Euro each by credit card, but they couldn't yet tell us from which track it would be departing. Laura, Marianne and Sharon purchased a McDonald's lunch because there didn't seem to be any other choices available. I had eaten such a big breakfast before we landed in Rome, I wasn't ready to eat again. Perhaps I was just too excited about actually being in Italy to recognize a sense of hunger.

I stood off to the side while I was waiting for the girls to purchase their McDonald's lunches, and a woman approached me, jabbering in Italian. I just shrugged my shoulders in the international signal for "I have no clue what you are saying." She walked on and jabbered to someone else. Another woman came up to me a couple of minutes later and did the same thing, eliciting the identical response from me. I don't know what their stories were, but we were warned about pick pockets, distractions, etc. so I was on guard.

We read on the huge board that the train to Firenze (Florence) would be at Track 1E. We rolled our collection of luggage and carried our other bags all the way to Track 1E, only to discover no train. We asked two different railway employees and finally received a response that we should be at Track #2. How could we possibly know this? The board indicated that Track #2 was for the train to Venezia (Venice). We didn't really understand the confusion, but we were finally headed for the correct train, along with many other people who were anxious to board. While we struggled with my 66 pound suitcase, a nice man offered to assist in boosting my elephantine luggage onto the train. I'll bet he was sorry he had generously volunteered if he had to seek medical attention for a hernia repair.

We were finally settled into our pre-assigned seats on the train. Our transportation was Trenitalia, and this was a high speed, clean, modern train which took us on a 1 1/2 hour pleasant ride to Florence. The system seems very organized once you actually find your train and track, and your ticket indicates which car you are in, along with your seat number. We were all very quiet once the train began to advance along the track. I assume everyone was somewhat exhausted, but we could finally take a deep breath and relax during this ride--until we would once again be forced to maneuver our luggage.

All was peaceful until the conductor arrived to see our tickets. Laura's ticket had absolutely vanished. She frantically searched her handbag, her carry-on--even her McDonald's bag. The ticket was nowhere to be found. Did she drop it when we were juggling luggage? Calmly, Marianne left her seat to assist in the search. The conductor, very annoyed, said to Marianne, "YOU talk to her!" Marianne looked through every possible nook and cranny. We reasoned that she must have had her ticket when she boarded because she readily found the seat number that matched her ticket. It had to be here somewhere! Suddenly, all was well once again as Laura reached into the pocket of the seat in front of her, where she had placed the ticket for safe keeping. "This is what I always do on Amtrak," she said. It's so easy to become disoriented on insufficient sleep and being deposited into the center of a foreign land! Eventually, the conductor with the stern expression returned to see if there was still an issue with Laura's ticket. He grinned from ear to ear to learn that the elusive item had been located.

As the train sped along the Italian countryside, the scenery was of green, rolling hills, houses with orangish colored roofs, boxy structures like one often sees on House Hunters International, vineyards planted on what appeared to be fairly dusty soil, mountains in the distance, and several herds of sheep. I placed a call to Fred to let him know that we were all fine and were on our way to Florence. The time difference is six hours so I have to calculate New York time in order to avoid calling Fred or Mom in the middle of the night. Our phone connection was great until we began gliding in and out of tunnels, so we concluded our call.

Arriving in Firenze Santa Maria and Novella at Piazza della Stazione in central Florence, we all pushed and pulled our luggage to exit the train station. Our hotel, The Waldorf Suite Firenze, is supposed to be located directly across the street. We saw some retail stores, but no hotel. We walked back to the front of the station, where we asked two uniformed policemen or train station officials--whatever they were--and they were simply very little help. We didn't know if it was due to the language barrier or that they truly don't know or actually don't care. Maybe we were just too tired to absorb what they were saying, as their command of English was limited. We hauled all of our belongings back across the street once again and inquired with a scarf vendor on the corner. He pointed in a direction on the opposite side of the station, but communication was sketchy at best. Another person we asked said, "Go to the other side and ask the people." Oh boy.

Here we go again--back across the street, through the bustling station, steering and pulling our now very cumbersome appendages to exit on the other side of the building. Did we see our hotel from this new vantage point? No. Nothing. Nada. We saw some small hotels, but not ours. We walked a short distance to the right and came upon an encouraging sight--a post office! This was fantastic! The post office knows everything! We have hit pay dirt. We watched Laura's luggage while she entered the post office, armed with the folder containing the reservation which shows the address of our hotel. Marianne took the opportunity to sit on a step to rest her weary bones. Laura exited the post office looking exasperated, as the young, snotty male postal clerk had responded, "This is a post office--not an information center." Very helpful indeed.

We walked across the street and to the left and almost marched right past our hotel entrance, as it is small and rather inconspicuous. We entered the front door and came face to face with a daunting set of marble steps. There was no bellman or anyone to assist us with our paraphernalia. We went through the check-in process and asked if we would be able to split our room costs on separate credit cards at the end of our stay, and were delighted to receive an affirmative response.

The elevator was tiny, so we ascended to Floor 3 in pairs. We discovered that our suites were generously spacious, but there was one minor issue. There was only one queen size bed in each entire suite, which is okay, but with two large rooms within each suite, we shouldn't really have to share a bed. The two rooms within each suite had separate bathrooms, closets, flat screen tvs, safes, etc., but one room had a bed and the other a sofa. I opted to sleep on the sofa so Sharon and I could take advantage of the privacy offered by the two separate rooms which were joined by our own private entry way.

Marianne and Laura's suite had the same layout, but they had a balcony because Laura trends toward claustrophobia. I wondered how she was feeling during our seemingly never ending taxi ride in Rome. Although Sharon and I didn't have a balcony, we had a fascinating view of the street and piazza below. I found myself opening my window (yes, wide open fresh air--no screens) and watching the persistent activity of the tiny autos, motorcycles/scooters, and pedestrian traffic.

What we have discovered so far on our first day in Florence:

• The hotel does not supply Kleenex or other tissues in the rooms other than toilet paper
• We were warned to bring our own washcloths, as they are not supplied. This is true.
• My shower has a curved door with a very narrow opening. If you are larger than size 8 or 10, I'm not sure how you'd even enter.
• Each restroom has a bidet. We're uncertain as to how to use them, but if we were inclined to do so, I guess we'd figure it out.
• In order to activate the electricity in our room, we must place our door key in a slot that is located in our entryway. The key remains in the slot while you are in the room. We found this out the hard way, after calling the front desk to tell them our room had no electricity. Sharon said, "I feel like I've been asleep for twenty years and I just woke up and I don't know how anything works!"
• The only English-speaking television station we are able to view is CNN.
• Laura and Marianne, although they used a converter for the electrical service in their room, experienced an overheating curling iron. They were afraid it was going to fry.
• Sharon's cell phone carrier had given her a converter for her cell phone, but it was the wrong type. She was able to borrow one from the front desk upon leaving a 10 Euro deposit.
  

We all crashed in our respective rooms for a much needed rest and made plans to meet in the lobby at 6:00 pm to locate a restaurant for our first dinner in Italy.