My last few days in Firenze were poignant, as I visited my favorite haunts and spent time with Haruko. I also met with another blogger, Melinda, who moved to Firenze four years ago and has been blogging about life in Florence since that time. Melinda took me to a great cafe, Caffè Giacosa, where we could sit without being charged extra, and we talked for several hours while waves of Italians came and went, quickly sipping their morning espresso and eating dolci, sweet pastries.
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| Melinda, in front of Caffè Giacosa. |
In the afternoon, Haruko and I met up and went to visit a profumeria (perfumery) near the church Santa Maria Novella. We tried many of the scents, which have been made in the same way, from flowers and herbs, for centuries, but I couldn’t bring myself to fork over 70-80 euros for a small bottle of the heavenly scents. Maybe next time!
We walked around town and eventually ended up near the Santa Croce church. While Haruko made a stop at an internet point, I scouted around for a trattoria where we might have lunch. I found one that offered a good bargain: primi e secondi piatti, l’acqua e vino, (first and second course, water and wine) for only 10 euros. Once we entered the restaurant, we both realized it was the same restaurant where we had our final meal together two years ago. Only the decor had changed, and later we learned that the trattoria had changed hands this past August. It’s named after Dante, the famous Florentine poet:¦a name I’m not likely to forget. (I’ve followed Dante’s trail in and around Florence, and then to other cities where he traveled after he was exiled from the city, including San Gimignano, Lucca and Ravenna, where he died.)
In addition, the food was even better than last time. For my first course, I had zuppa di fagioli, a typical Tuscan soup with beans, and Haruko ordered gnocchi, a small dumpling-like pasta. For il secondo, she ate Trippa Fiorentina: a tripe dish that was quite delicious, and I had an exquisite beef dish, Peposa dell’Impruneta. When we left, we told the waiter we had been there two years earlier, and he kissed our hands and wished us a speedier return to his restaurant.
After another visit to a favorite gelateria, we wandered around to our favorite haunts, along the fiume Arno, to view the Ponte Vecchio in the moonlight, Piazza della Repubblica, Piazza della Signoria and the Duomo one last time. Haruko suggested I just not go home, that I could forget about getting to the plane and just stay in Italy. If only! But at least we both feel certain we’ll meet again, and certainly in Italy. Perhaps it will be sooner than either of us thinks possible.
The next morning, I was up at 4 am to catch the shuttle to the airport at 5:30 for my 7 am flight. A woman saw me standing at the bus stop and informed me that the shuttle no longer stopped there…the stop had moved across the street to the train station. I would certainly have missed the bus if not for her warning: once again I had the sense of being looked after.
I easily made my flight to Amsterdam, and endured the transition from the warm, playful chaos of Italy to the efficient, cool reserve of Amsterdam. The contrast worsened when I arrived in Memphis and was bombarded with smells of barbecue and the sloppy attire of my fellow Americans. Already, I missed the sensual, vivacious approach to life that comes naturally in Italy. Life is certainly more voluptuous in Italy, and I feel certain it’s where I belong, if only to learn more about la dolce vita: the sweet life.
It’s taken me a few days to readjust to life in America: it’s cooler and wetter here, and my body rhythms still seem to be on Italian time. I’m wading through the 1000 photos that I made while in Italy, and will post a few of them on this blog throughout the many entries about my journey.
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