Florence and Venice

So what did I find in Florence?

Having seen both the Galleria and Uffizi I've come to the conclusion that most of the good art is actually in Paris or London. I was very glad I’d seen David and the Botticellis but not really impressed by the huge store of pre renaissance religious studies. There are icons and icons, and without my notes on Byzantium and religious symbolism one was as obscure as the next.

The Uffizi I enjoyed very much as we trekked with our earpieces in following our lady guide. We had long enough in the Botticelli room to appreciate the scale of the works, and I came away even more of a fan than when I went in. The tour finished at the café on the rooftop and after I’d rested with coffee and taken a picture of the Palazzo Vecchio roof next door, I went in search of the shop, going through the foreign art rooms.

And there, ironically- not on the tourist tour -are some of the Uffizis most lovely jewels. Paintings by Caravaggio- Judith slaying Holofernes, and others by a little remembered Dutch master- Honthorst- known in Italy as Gherardo della Notte- mainly because his paintings are set in a night time interior, where the delicate light throws detail on the faces of the subjects.

A particular passion of mine is Rupert of the Rhine and his 17thC siblings. The Palatines were a brilliant bunch, and while their names are forgotten, they left us with all manner of things in our every day life : one sister was Honthorst’s pupil- and among the subjects in those paintings. Another was Descartes’ pupil, Eliza- and when I bought a fridge magnet with the motto Cognito Ergo Sum, I smiled at its presence here. Rupert- no mean artist himself, went on to be a founder member of the Royal Society, which sought to make Science respectable.

 

Gypsies tramps and thieves abound in Florence from the waiters who rip off diners to the pickpockets masquerading as lawyers with briefcases- why do we trust people with luggage? Streets full of Albanian women prostrating themselves in the street. I did wonder how many of them die under the wheels of oncoming traffic. Most Florentines get about by bike- trundling over the dodgy cobbles and I saw very few flash cars on this trip. I did see the Segway tours, and I stroked the necks of the lovely horses which drew the site seeing carriages.

There are rip off merchants and rip off merchants. One of the most blatant cases was the Aussie lady who ran a leather boutique down the lane from the Galleria and relied on people not doing any price comparison- as she charged at least 300% more than anyone else.  Then there was the pavement café in Piazza Della Republica where the waiters are straight out of the Godfather- so much so that a ten euro pizza ends up costing 30. Still the eye candy was worth it. Message to self to stick to the other side of the Ponte Vecchio for food

There were also bargains to be had. The lovely little trattoria in Piazza Santa Felicitas did great pasta with truffle cream sauce, and the wine was delicate. The food there was as good as the Watermill. The place was busy- but the service good, and it was cheap. A short walk away was an amazing gelaterie at Trinitas bridge.

 

I spent time in some of the other leather emporia – where the elegant ladies showed me hides which would later be sent to Mulberry or Hermes. Crocodile turned out to be as soft as silk. Python was amazingly tactile and the ostrich hides were amazingly delicate. I bought two small clutch purses- a scarlet lattice one from Parri- from their atelier off the Vecchio. The other- a dove grey ostrich one was identical to a bag I remember from Mum’s wardrobe and bought in a studio behind the Cathedral.

But shopping apart, I had the uncomfortable feeling that as a middle aged female I’d become invisible. Everyone in the city appeared to be with companions or relatives or colleagues and I had little opportunity to get into conversation – unless it was with the shopkeepers or on public transport.

On my second day away from the course, I fulfilled an ambition of the past 25 years and returned to Venice, which I’d last seen on a trip with my school.  Train goes through Padova  and other bits of Shakespeare referenced places. This time it is a second look!

 

First half hour of train ride is through tunnels and the first stop was  Bologna where an uber elegant lady got off laden with Viuitton luggage. Some of the streets visible from the train look smart although there is the inevitable outrage of graffiti. Banksy could teach them a thing or two about urban cool

Bullet trains have few stops and our last before Venice was Padova at noon. Didn't realise how close to Venice it is before. Wonder how far we are from Verona?

At this point I was joined by an elderly walker, who was catching his flight home from San Marco. We got into conversation and I mentioned running away from my course. It turned out my companion not only knew my tutor from his work with the Arvon Foundation, but he also knew the Hebden Bridge Arvon writer- Ted Hughes. I’d have enjoyed having his company a bit longer.

Off the train I bought my ticket for the vaparetto and got my iphone camera into gear. The water bus can be slow, but it affords some terrific sights, including the visiting cruise ships and a hideous piece of inflatable art, anchored across the lagoon from San Marco.

Lunch in Venice was taken in a cafe round corner from San Marco on the waterfront in an amazing heat haze. Takes me back to last visit in 1988 when cafes were off limits! Not so now. And Pina Cabrelli  is right about Venice being a theme park- it's full of well heeled Brits.

So what did I get up to?  Had a shuffle around Vuitton and Prada as you do and wandered in and photographed the Danielli hotel. The pictures tell the real story and I'm sunburned from the time I spent in boats (no seasickness so mum would have been proud of me).

If I could stay anywhere I’d opt for the Danielli- which is like a Byzantine jewel in itself. Venice has less in the way of pictures (apart from the Manet Exhibition in the Doges palace which I wished I had enough time to see- but didn’t). However, what it lacks in terms of Old Masters, it makes up for in the precious jewels of its buildings. The black and gold interior of Saint Marks takes some getting used to, but has to be on everyone’s bucket list.

Yes I was on the look out for pickpockets, with Mum’s precious bag glued under my arm. Id taken to adding key rings and bag charms to its loops, so it now boasts a carnival mini mask and a key, as well as the fleur de lis of Florence. But Venice turned out to be courteous, and kind, and amazingly beautiful. Yes its sinking into the sea, but it still takes my breath away.

Only when I was back on the train, did I realise that I’d visited all the scenes referenced in Inferno!

 

 

 

Villa Gabrielle D’Annunzio- aka Hotel California

Completely shopped out between leather market, jewellers and the chain stores near the Ponte Vecchio I finally left my tourist trap for the four star hotel room which had no bath either! Ouch! My feet were so in need of a proper soak! And don't tell me to use the bidet!

I trekked back downstairs to where the elegant lady on the desk checked her computer and found me a room with less of a view, but a tub.  A fellow guest – American-heard my desperate plea for a bath and commented that no one ever understands what a bath means to a woman- especially one with sore feet.

The Villa was formerly a convent of the Poor Claires. I wonder what the nuns would make of the pool or the naked girls festooned on towel draped loungers.  It turned out that the hotel was taken over by two distinct groups- a tour bus, full of American travellers and a wedding party – the celebration would take place in a nearby castle late on Sunday afternoon. The older bridesmaids were topping up their suntans, periodically leaping into the pool. I sat on my lounger with my kindle and wished I had a bikini, or had bothered to learn to swim. The temperature was much higher than I’d ever encountered before, and I was conscious of needing to top up my internal and external moisture levels.

The place was elegant, but by now I’d had enough of tiled floors and air conditioning. The worst bit I realised was being on my own with no one to talk to. Facebook was rapidly becoming my best friend. Every post I made was like writing home, and when I said as much, my good friend Kate told me that in effect I was doing just that- and that my friends were now standing in place of my family.

The statuary and the shrubs were straight out of Hotel California. I kept thinking of the lines:

‘You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave…’

I did a last dash into city centre to check train times for Pisa airport tomorrow and to do a last trawl for odds and ends. By now I had bags filled with stuff for friends: fridge magnets, note books, art cards, and some chic little key rings, in the form of a key.  I had to steel myself not to get carried away at the leather market by now.

Back on the train to Pisa the next day (I’d photographed the leaning tower on my first day),  my invisibility cloak fell away as I got into conversation at various queues. I spoke with an Australian couple who were having to cut short their trip of a lifetime because the wife’s sister had that morning been killed in a plane crash near Newcastle Australia- one which hadn’t made the international news. I met a lovely American family from Illinois who were spending three months touring Italy. The parents had been alone with one another for two months, and were chuffed their daughters had come to join them because they needed other people to speak to.

And in one queue, for boarding I met a lovely couple who were bracing themselves for the next part of their lives. The husband had been made redundant while they were in Tuscany (not far from the Watermill), and the wife was giving up her study plans to do for her parents what I had done for mine- but with the support of a good man.

I made it on to my plane, and that evening checked into the Premier Inn at Gatwick North, where not only did I have a room with a carpet, and a bath, and UK television, but I also had a date with someone I love very much, my amazing aunt Ann.  And I’d come home.  

 

So what did I learn?

Okay after those eight days I've seen a fair bit of northern Italy. Writing course apart the trip was a bit too long so I  worked out how to do it in three or four days.

First choose your airline and airport. Pisa and Easyjet could well be the cheapest option.

If Pisa set aside three hours to do the old town- which includes the leaning tower etc.

Now choose your base. Keep in mind that star ratings vary and you might wish to sacrifice some comfort for location. I'd suggest Florence and to  look for the best deal on Trivago. If you go for the outskirts you can get a pool but it might limit your choice of eating places.  And you will need to factor in transport costs. You can walk Florence easily but book gallery tours to avoid the queues. The leather markets have some pretty cool bargains but while all the designer shops are here there isn't the variety you find in London or Paris.

Take one day, book the Silver Arrow and spend the day in Venice. Take the vaporetto  to St Marks. If there are a few of you hire a water taxi going back to the station- you will feel like a movie star.

Use your third day either in Florence or book something flash on the 'my tours' website. This could be wine tasting, or Ferrari driving, or designer outlet shopping- or just walk.

Other advice? Sensible and comfy shoes and watch those paving stones- as everyone will tell you this is Italy.

Everyone has a favourite place to eat. Mine is at the far end of the Ponte Vecchio. Pasta with truffle sauce and the nicest chianti.

It's doable if you book at least a month in advance for about £600

So- before I book to do Florence, Sienna and Lucca next year- who’s coming with me?