Top photos from 20 years of blogging

Leo in Rome, 2018 (Piazza Bucarest)

I love this photo so much because it's the honest result of introducing a curious boy to the Eternal City. 

Leo was 5 years old when we snapped this photo, and excited to visit Italy (actually, really just excited to do anything except go to bed).

It's one of many photos taken in Italy that make me swoon. 

Here's a selection of photos posted previously on the blog that I love, and which best express the joy Italy has injected into my life -- which I guess, come to think of it, is the theme of this blog. The pure beauty of this country I happened upon during a study abroad program, chosen all because a week before I began college, I saw a movie that convinced me to study Italian or bust.

I'm reposting these photos to celebrate 20 years of writing this blog. Note, some were taken in Italy, some just reflect the life of Ciambellina, the person. Might need another post just for photos of actual ciambelle/ciambelline (hold that thought).

In the past two decades, I've had the thrill of visiting Torino (under the radar for many American travelers even though it's a fantastic city with a coffee culture all its own and a mountainous locale that's just stunning), various places in Puglia (including Trani), and of course Rome, Milan and Florence (and Siena and Pistoia and Pisa and Le Cinque Terre and San Marco dei Cavoti and Lucca and Bologna and and Focene and Matera and Venice and ... ). 

Torino, a city of grand piazzas

I've also chronicled Ciambellina's transition from aimless, vagabond journalist to besotted mother whose favorite subject (via photos or writing) is Leonardo.

He was an adorable little boy -- no thanks to me since I wasn't this cute as a child -- and now he's a teen with a gorgeous smile and rather strong opinions (Milan is the best city in Italy, don't challenge him!).

The most adorable Leonardo ever (Atlanta)

When you eat calamari fritti for the first time

My favorite place in Milan

The photo I always take when visiting Florence

To be sure, this is a make-shift photo gallery that includes my favorite moments during my travels to Italy and also my favorite moments from this lifelong project of remaining fluent in Italian and immersed in everything that Italy's one-of-a-kind culture has to offer. Buona lettura!

Monte Sant'Angelo, Puglia -- road-side pranzo!

 a

A gem of an appetizer in Puglia

Weekly flower market, Piazza della Repubblica, Firenze

The photos of Italy are more enchanting but of course the little Italian touches we've brought stateside feel pretty cozy. Our not-so-little shrine to the place we met.

Buon Natale Christmas decoration (in Atlanta)

Buon Natale sign with my little tesoro! (Leo's 1st Christmas)

Little souvenirs for little Italophiles

What I saw during those 24 hours in Rome

At Bennington, thinking of Leo

Priests crossing a piazza in Trani (2006)

Thank you for reading my blog. Thank you for caring about the ways I've incorporated Italy into my life. And if I know you in person, thank you for caring about Leo. That's the most important thing you could for for me. I love Italy, no question, but nothing is bigger than my love for Leonardo.

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The Four Seasons Hotel in Florence

The boy whose Fiorentina soccer team shirt reads 'Nato Perfetto' ("born perfect") gets around. 

This is a photo of Leo, aged 5, in the park surrounding the absolutely stunning Four Seasons Hotel in Florence, close to Piazza D'Azeglio and not too far from the Accademia (home of the David statue).

Somehow this fancy-schmancy hotel has an exquisite private park to its name, but there's a coffee bar there so you can show up at the hotel and simply say you're visiting the cafe to gain entrance to this amazing park, which, as you can see, is adorned with sculpture.

(No one can be denied a coffee in Italy!)

We were staying with my old roommate whose current apartment is nearby so we were game to go.

Yet since the park was so beautiful and the hotel clearly for high rollers, the day that Leo and I arrived, I hesitated. Could it really be that simple? So when I asked a hotel employee if we could enter, the born-and-bred Florentine took one look at Leo's shirt, which featured the symbol and color of Florence's beloved soccer team, and he said, "Con quella maglietta lui può andare dove vuole." In that shirt, he can go wherever he wants!

It's absolutely worth a detour if you're visiting Florence -- Italy is full of hidden treasures, often in courtyards and concealed behind high stone walls. It's nice that this one is sort of within reach.

I was reminded of this hotel recently because one of my sisters will be visiting Florence in the Fall for a wedding so I looked up the rates.

Well, she is a bit of a high roller but the cost is King-of-England-level high rolling so she might just have to pass on this one! 

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Tiny moments of exquisite beauty in Italy

The apartment in Florence where we stayed this month during our trip to Italy had a top-floor terrace that stares directly at the Torre di Arnolfo, which defines the Palazzo Vecchio and is arguably the symbol of Florence. In the early morning hours as Leo and Mike (and the rest of the city) slept, I had my coffee while staring back at it. One morning, the silence surrounding me was so profound that the flapping of a bird's wing overhead was singularly audible. 

(Fun fact: the apartment is on the top floor -- 75 steps up!)

Each trip contains certain touchstones -- I revisit my old apartments, I retrace my steps along treasured walking routes, I prowl beloved bookstores and newsstands for all of the written material that I feel as though I need to live. I observe the small moments of exquisite beauty, something I believe my mother would have done (a habit she almost certainly instilled in me by modeling it).  

But each trip is also different, and engenders a specific set of preoccupations. 

At one point during our travels, I developed an obsession with the Roma-Viterbo train line, which is separate from Trenitalia. It's not entirely odd: our apartment in Rome overlooked one of the stations on the line. And when I am in Italy, I am immersed in "my beat," which I define as the ordinary aspects of Italian life, the parts of Italian life that an average Italian contends with. 

It reminded me of the PATH trains that link lower Manhattan to New Jersey inasmuch as it's both local and separate. They are like an alt subway line, which is slightly odd. If you were a traveler to NYC, you could mistake them for the actual subway system, no?  

When I poked my head inside the station I could see from the window, it was as old-school as it comes. The tracks were visible from the entranceway (the long train tunnel simply deadends into the lobby of the station) and on them sat old tram-like trains. There was a bustling coffee bar attached, of course, and I had my breakfast there one day, knowing that while it appeared scruffy, the volume of customers and the people who frequented it (real Italians) guaranteed a fine cappuccino and a light, fluffy ciambellina. Yet still, I am both irked by this random, standalone train line and also by my obsession with it!

More from the Rome Journal: You can buy calendars where each month is a photo of a young Italian priest. Yes, I, too, am wondering how on Earth I left Rome without one of those calendars! I mean, dai, per l'amor di Dio ... you cannot top that. I tried to explain it to Leo by saying it was driven by the dearth of vocations and that the notion of a slew of new young priests would give older Catholics such joy....

There’s an article in the current L’Espresso that is so funny: Italian politicians who years after they’ve left office continue to enjoy la scorta (police escort/secret service-level protection), which is to say they still jump the line (in traffic, at the airport, etc) when it’s convenient. The article cites a two-century-old line of poetry:

Io so’ io

E voi non siete un cazzo

Not a poem I've ever read. (From Wikipedia: La celebre frase che il Marchese rivolge a un gruppo di popolani («Mi dispiace, ma io so' io e voi non siete un cazzo!») è ripresa dal sonetto Li soprani der Monno vecchio di Giuseppe Gioachino Belli, che comincia così: «C'era una vorta un Re cche ddar palazzo / mannò ffora a li popoli st'editto: / "Io sò io, e vvoi nun zete un cazzo"».)

ENGLISH SUMMARY: The gist of the line of poetry, spoken by a nobleman to commoners, is roughly: I'm important (or I'm someone) and you're a nobody (said more colorfully in the Italian: 'You're not jack squat,' or, 'You're a fuckin' nobody.')

I was walking through Piazza della Signoria one evening only to find a concert in the loggia behind the Uffizi – a gorgeous soprano and a small ensemble. Leo didn’t want to linger but luckily the singer’s voice lingered, following me out of the piazza (I walked extra slow).

New 'addresses' emerge on each trip, often connected with coffee bars or bakeries that serve good ciambelle/ciambelline (who would care? Yes, yes I know. There's a reason few people read this blog!). I stopped at Caffe Le Logge by the post office one morning for a cappuccino. I was out on my morning walk and needed to refuel before venturing across the river. When I returned later to buy some pastries (which were quite good), the barman said, "Ri-buongiorno." I believe that's the first time I've ever had someone say that to me. Good morning -- again. (Not that you would care if you weren't obsessed with Italian and why should you be?!)

And while we're on the topic ... The trip was especially fruitful in one delicious way: I ate some of the best ciambelle I've ever had (none would qualify as a ciambellina, where -ina indicates little). Soft, doughy, enormous, and of course covered in sugar.

Taking the pulse of Firenze -- and my own

Dante considered Florence a den of snakes, and I can see why, but he also lamented his exile from this bejeweled city and I can absolutely see why -- years into my own (voluntary?) exile from Florence.

It’s truly beguiling as cities go -- not one you can write off easily (though he and I have both tried!).

Beguiling describes its allures and also its current state, mired as it is in overtourism -- but can we blame anyone for wanting to visit this enchanting city I once called home?

(Not unlike the notion that Italy is familiar to me, I also revel in saying that Florence is a city I once called home. Maybe how native-born Manhattanites feel? Though that level of entitlement I could never approach). 

As I write, I’m sitting in a living room on Via della Vigna Vecchia – not #1 but rather #12, and outside, from a tiny terrace, there’s an up close-and-personal view of the tower in Palazzo Vecchio. At this moment, the churches are chiming out 7 o’clock and I feel compelled to go out on the terrace to hear the bells – like the world coming alive in surround sound.

We arrived on Monday, and as usual, I have professed my love for Florence -- and spent time getting reacquainted with her -- by walking her streets. That is the way for me to take the city’s pulse, and my own. Will you grow weary of reading that only when I have prowled the streets for hours each day do I feel as though I am truly visiting Florence? Speriamo no.

Denise posted on Facebook that she was at the Shore for her birthday, and I had a serious case of FOMO.

And yet, while she was at the beach, I was meeting with my one-time roommate, Irene, and her husband, and reveling in the joys of old friendships. We chose to meet up at this ridiculously cool bar by the Sant’Ambrogio market, where Mike and I found seats outside while we waited but when Irene arrived, she said, “Well, have you seen the internal courtyard?” I had not and let’s just say the nuns who once lived at the convent now converted into a bar had some nice green space (would they have enjoyed the glass of Bolgheri we had? Maybe).

Yesterday I found two books I’d been looking for at the Florence branch of Il Libraccio: Vita immaginaria by Ginzburg and Lettera da Francoforte by Edith Bruck (finally!). Who knows how many more books I’ll try to schlep home? The quantity I’d like to buy is probably a number in the low three figures.

I also shopped at my old market (in Italian, Il Mercato di Sant’Ambrogio) yesterday. Still authentic, still wonderful, still selling qualche etto di prosciutto (crudo, always crudo, for chrissakes) that I can’t resist.

State of the city: positively infested with tourists, and the main part of centro storico is now full of quickie snack stops for travelers (rather than residents), as I wrote during an earlier trip. If back then, there were 15 snack stops (panini shops, wine bars geared toward foreigners, convenience stores) in a half-mile, now there are 40. And they've displaced local shops that served residents.

State of Leonardo (as he is known here, not far from Vinci, home of the other Leonardo): Well, we saw my old friend, Chiara, last night for a walk through centro & then dinner, which was lovely until we said our goodbyes and Leo yelled at me, “Three hours of you talking in Italian!” But what was nice: I suggested we go to a bookstore (so Chiara could pick out a book for her upcoming vacation) but instead she said she wanted to find Andremo in città, (i.e., the book I translated) which they didn’t have (alas).

(Update: The state of Leonardo was quite good at the Ferrari store where we bought him a pricey shirt and also before in the mountains where he was surrounded by cats and dogs.) 

I spend my days taking an inventory of what was and what is, especially since Mike insisted we rent a place on our old street (which is also around the corner from my last apartment in Florence). My old tower of course is still there but now at the base, there’s yet another restaurant for tourists (meanwhile our bread bakery not far away is long gone; oh the focaccia you could get there!). At Vivoli, there’s a line out the door – not so surprising, as even at 8:30 a.m., gelato is yummy (apparently) – but they’ve also expanded and taken over the corner grocery Paola used to run. I guess no one needs gorgonzola anymore.

Morning coffee with biscotti: enjoyed on the tiny terrace while the Torre di Arnolfo looks on (see above). The only cool respite in a city baked by the August sun.

My church is open most days and more gorgeous than I remember (just a neighborhood church) plus the ‘Crazy Drycleaner’ (our nickname, not the name of his shop) is still there – but the macellaria (butcher) where we bought the Thanksgiving turkey one year is gone.

Italy? Still stunning

Of all the ways I've aged, perhaps the one I like best is how easily I am satisfied at times. 

I've written before in this space about the 24 hours I spent in Rome a few years back, and how utterly wonderful they were, no matter the scant time I had to enjoy the Eternal City. Now I come again to say almost any amount of time I spend in Italy is a cure for a life-threatening disease I didn't know I had.

If you read nothing else, let me also say this: We arrived in Italy a week ago and as usual it is both breathtaking and familiar! How lucky can I be that Italy feels familiar? So very lucky indeed. Also: I don't consider myself one to have a bucket list but something that could top it for me? Biking on the ancient Appian Way in Rome.

Pinch me -- maybe my bike tire rolled over a cobblestone once tread on by Julius Caesar's chariot! (Because yes, there are sections of the road with the original cobblestones). You can visit some interesting ruins and of course the catacombs.

That's one of the special things we did in Rome. We also visited (again) the Borghese Gardens and saw the Ara Pacis for the first time. Perhaps most importantly, for me, I visited with "my author" Edith Bruck and she is well (for a 94-year-old woman). I spent three glorious hours with her! She has a new book coming out in the Fall, I am pleased to say. She is not very mobile but as long as she is near a pack of cigarettes, she's OK! (She smoked those tiny thin cigarettes my entire visit).

Also, for the record: Seeing SPQR on every manhole cover in Rome is still cool! (Also cool: knowing it means senatus populusque romanus; the Roman Senate and people)

Oh and you can buy a calendar that features the faces of fresh, young priests every month of the year!

We explored Piazza del Popolo and the area around it (including Via del Corso, site of the nightly passaggiata) quite a bit since we stayed on Via Flaminia, one block outside of the piazza (thus we had to pass through a gorgeous monumental gate each day to enter Piazza del Popolo). It was ground zero for all of the young people visiting Rome last week for the Jubilee youth summit, owing to the fact that one of the churches on the piazza is a pre-requisite for all pilgrims before heading to the Vatican.

Rome was hot, somewhat crowded and still the Eternal City.

Best food so far:

Extra large, extra doughy ciambella (Rome)

Crostini with rabbit ragu

Pinsa with mozzarella di bufala and pomodorini

Fiori di zucca fritti

Verdure fritte miste

My favorite chocolate bar: dark chocolate ('fondente') with whole hazelnuts

Best walks so far

-- Cross the bridge closest to Piazza del Popolo, walk along Tevere to the bridge by Piazza Navona, stumble into the piazza where the Pantheon is located, then Via della Scrofa, which becomes Via di Ripetta until you reach Piazza del Popolo (Rome)

-- Walk along Arno in the town of Onda (mountain town outside of Florence)

I’m in the mountains now – the mountains of Italy – and need I say, it is absolutely beautiful? We visited small, run-of-the-mill towns yesterday and my heart broke from the beauty. It was the Jeanne-small-town variety of beautiful: a rocky stream with multiple small waterfalls ran through the center of town and you could walk along the stream (the towns of Londa and Stia). You could stand on a bridge and look over at the stream, and ogle the buildings that line the stream (including, in Stia, a restaurant where we ate).

At one point, we walked through the town of Stia during lunch hour, and the sound of Italian radio filtered out of a door or a window, much to my delight!

We try to do something different each trip, and this trip we have chosen to stay a few nights at an agriturismo in the mountains east of Florence. Good decision! We have visited mountain towns before but I don’t recall our ever staying overnight at a farmhouse as we are now. So imagine you’re visiting Vermont but all the signage is in Italian, the quirky tavern keeper speaks Italian, the tourists you find at the secret swimming hole are Italian (or German – but of course). Oh and it's somewhat hot.

And then there’s a certain extremity to the matter – the roads we travel to reach this farmhouse are so narrow, no American could possibly consider them fit for two-way traffic. I have visited Vermont many times and probably there are a few roads like this but are the locals going 90 mph around each turn?

While right now I am using my laptop and I have been texting with Italian friends, I am largely offline, content to read my Natalia Ginzburg book (Tutti i nostri ieri) (I've tried to read this novel before but it never appealed to me as much as her other books) and articles in the copy of L’Espresso I bought in Rome.

Right now, as I write: One of the barnyard cats is meowing outside our kitchen window. The silence is so complete, it is loud!

So far in Italy: I have walked – run – swum – biked.

What else? Leo (known as "Leonardo" here) has begun to tease me while I’m talking on the phone here to Italian friends:

I say: “Si,si.” And then he says, “Si,si.”

I say: “Certo.” And then he says, “Certo.”

My mind is not totally 'bifurcated' yet between English and Italian but getting there. 

So to sum up: Italy is still marvelous! And hearing Italian is still marvelous. Wish you were here! Especially some of you -- and you know who you are.

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How Italy Ruined My Life (sort of -- for The Millions)

The way Italian plunges me into an intoxication of sound and thought is something I've wanted to write about for a long time.

The way the Italian language is like a person in my life, "a twin who accompanies me everywhere -- for better or for worse," the way knowing a foreign tongue "confers a special passport" or how my attempts to convince Florentines I had mastered their language -- la lingua di Dante -- devolved into nothing short of high school hazing ... yes I've wanted to explore this topic for so long.

And now I have! Thanks to my editor, Sophia, at The Millions.

You can read the essay here:

https://themillions.com/2023/11/the-quiet-exhilaration-of-reading-in-italian.html

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Guide for your trip to Florence -- buonviaggio!

When my aunt and uncle embarked on a trip to Florence last year (after an absence of 40 years!), I realized I have slightly skimped on travel tips here on Ciambellina or in some cases not organized the posts with tips well so I am going to try to unite everything here in one post. Everything you -- my friend, my Ciambellina reader, my cousin, my uncle -- need to know in order to have a special trip to Florence, Italy (where I still live in my heart). You can thank Aunt Maureen and Uncle Pat!

Before I get to specific tips and itineraries, let me mount my linguistic soap box: learn some Italian before you go. 

Not to be nice or cosmopolitan, and not to improve the American image abroad (magari!). 

But rather because: speaking Italian with an Italian is one of life's special pleasures.

The other major bits of advice:

*Walk as much as possible

*Visit the main produce markets

*Have a ciambella (and bring a few back for me).

OK, sermon over.

Where to go

Assuming you will tick off the major sites listed in your guide book or online (the Duomo, the Uffizi, l'Accademia, San Marco, Cappella Brancacci, etc.), I will move onto advice about other attractions in Florence.

One of the main recommendations I want to make is: Visit the Villa and Giardino Bardini. Most people visit Boboli Gardens, which is quite lovely but I think the Bardini is even better. The gardens are gorgeous [terraced in some parts] and the views stunning. When I was in Florence last summer, our ticket somehow got us entry to both, though I don't know how you would visit both in one day and see everything. 

(Note, they are both on the other side of the river).

Also on the other side of the river: Forte Belvedere and Piazzale Michelangelo. I recommend walking to both, but have your walking shoes handy. Both sights are gorgeous, with views equally as gorgeous. There's likely some important historical note someone else could tell you about.

There are also specific corners of the city that I love. I'll start with piazzas: 

Piazzas I love (to walk through, to stroll through, to gaze at, to sit in)

Piazza Santo Spirito (there's often a market on in this square)

Piazza del Carmine

Piazza dei Ciompi

Piazza della Repubblica (now with a carousel)

Piazza della Signoria

Quirky neighborhoods

Piazza Torquato Tasso: Real people live in this neighborhood! Locals gather to play soccer in the park at the center of the piazza and you could go over to Al Tranvai if you wanted authentic but decidedly unfussy Florentine food.

Piazza Santo Spirito: Still where you might find artisan workshops, real Florentines and flourishes of the everyday dolce vita, though to be honest, overtourism is swallowing up these things, even here.

Santa Croce (or one quirky aspect of the neighborhood): the area across from the piazza and the church was originally settled by Etruscans and it's one of the few places in the city where roads curve. There are some tiny, hidden piazzas and viuzze here that are fun to discover.

Speaking of which...

Where to eat

I mentioned Trattoria Cammillo (Borgo San Iacopo, #57R) in a previous post about restaurants in Florence because it's a place that I like (and Beyonce also liked it!).

Cibreo is also good -- there are actually multiple Cibreo storefronts in the same basic area, depending on your budget (Via Andrea del Verrocchio #8R). 

Note, a lot of the places I like are on the other side of the river and two are in Piazza Santo Spirito: Trattoria Casalinga and Borgo Antico. The piazza is also quite lovely and the church was my father's favorite (designed by Brunelleschi).

I also love Ristorante Caffe Italiano on my old street, Via della Vigna Vecchia.

Where to eat and shop for dinner

I really like going to the public produce markets in Florence and the two main ones in centro are the Mercato di San Lorenzo (by the station; it is the best-known) and the Mercato Sant'Ambrogio; this last one is where I did my shopping when I was an ex-pat. It is east of Santa Croce -- and has fantastic cheese, sliced meats, veggies, etc. 

The San Lorenzo produce market -- the main market -- is now a wonderful place to dine and shop. You have to wade through the outdoor flea market surrounding the market to reach it but it's worth it.

Not just where to eat but what

People rave about pasta but here's a secret: Italian sandwiches are divine. Note: in the Old Country, they are nothing like a sub or a hero. Freshly made and reflective of all the Italian culinary acumen we've come to expect in pasta dishes, the Italian sandwich you can buy at a bar is something not to miss. Antico Noe is one of the best places for sandwiches, and not only because it is literally tucked inside a medieval arch a half-mile from Piazza Santa Croce (with a view of a medieval tower I once lived atop, but that's neither here nor there).

Other highlights:

Crostini -- as an appetizer. In the event these are new to you: little toasted slices of bread with toppings, including chicken pate, freshly-chopped tomatoes, mushrooms, etc.

Prosciutto crudo -- I believe it's part of Italy's culinary patrimony and I am not joking. Salty, silky, delicious. I don't care if you're a vegetarian -- my Italian friends certainly didn't when I pretended to be one in college and they kept urging me to eat prosciutto! (Ma dai!)

Cinghiale -- Wild boar. It's used often as the main ingredient of an amazing pasta dish that I suggest you order: pappardelle al cinghiale. It's available everywhere!

Porcini mushrooms -- if they are in season

Fiori di zucca (zucchini flowers) -- fried or stuff

Italian pastries -- Forget gelato. The real treats in Italy are pastries. Look for bars that say 'produzione propria' (that means they make their own pastries) or head to a pasticceria.

(Also grab a chocolate bar at the supermercato/alimentari if it has whole nocciole in it -- the big nut at the center of the baci candies. Why have one nocciola when you can have an entire chocolate bar full of them?)

Where to walk...

In addition to "everywhere," I also recommend walking to the other side of the river -- often. From there, as I've mentioned, you can walk to Forte Belvedere, Piazzale Michelangelo and the Bardini gardens.

Indeed some of the nicest walks are in the area around San Niccolò (the other side of the river) because they allow you to get outside the walls of the city and go up into the hills. One place you could try walking to is Forte Belvedere.

Where to have a coffee and step onto a page of A Room With A View:

There are old-school caffes that make your morning coffee feel royal and four of them are on Piazza della Repubblica, of which Caffe Gilli is probably the best (coffee/pastries/aperitivo etc); also the Rivoire on Piazza della Signoria will make you feel as though you're a wealthy landowner.

Where to drink wine

Everywhere! That's one of the things that makes Italian coffee bars special -- you can order a caffe latte in the morning and un bicchiere di vino rosso in the evening!

But I will give one recommendation of a place to drink: Rose's on Via del Parione; it's on one of the more beautiful streets in the center city. Drink outside at one of the tiny tables where you can watch fancy Florentines walk and bike by.

Look for a place called 'enoteca' to sample some good wine. I also love the hole-in-the wall (literally) kiosks where you stand on the street at a counter and order a glass of wine and maybe a sandwich.

Pastries

You'll find an entry for gelato below but as I mentioned, I think paste or pasticcini [pastries] are the unsung sweets of Italian cities (unsung, I should say, by Americans. Italians know). And really, by now, you should know my favorite: la ciambella or ciambellina (looks like a donut if a donut was baked in God's kitchen). Also good: un bombolone (similar but without the hole and typically filled with crema). 

Gelato

Vivoli (Via Isola delle Stinche) around the corner from our old apartment is very popular and also very good but so is Festival del Gelato right off of Piazza della Repubblica (down the block from the Duomo). Also good (and popular): Gelateria Carraia and Gelateria Santa Trinita (both are stationed on the other side of two consecutive bridges across the River, Oltrarno side).

Souvenirs

I still buy souvenirs and so should you! I favor paper goods because reading in Italian is my passion (and paper was an ancient Florentine art) so my suitcase is always loaded down with novels and magazines but the category also includes notepads, calendars and the like, which would appeal to anyone.

I find some of the best souvenirs can be had at the big bookstore on Piazza della Repubblica: Libreria Feltrinelli (there are also lots of kiosks right in front of the bookstore that may have something you like). In addition, I highly recommending visiting the Bialetti store for the classic Italian Moka coffee pot (and coffee cups and other accessories).

Lastly, I know some of you out there are real foodies so I recommend checking out a website published by a local Florentine food writer who knows her stuff (and has Catholic interests -- hugely into sushi, etc.):

https://www.ioamofirenze.it/

She recently published a guide on her blog to choosing a restaurant in Florence:

https://www.ioamofirenze.it/mi-consigli-un-ristorante/

Note, it's in Italian but all the addresses you see everywhere (on maps, for hotels, etc) are in Italian anyway and the names of restaurants are in Italian on the sides of buildings so if you really want to go somewhere, you'll figure it out. I suggest choosing something from her guide under the category 'Trattorie tipiche' ('local, traditional eateries'), with the name of the restaurant in bold at the start of each entry (then Google the name of the restaurant and figure out where it is). She also has a heading for fine dining (in English) and if you have the euros, go for it!

Buonviaggio!

-30-

 

Indo ttuvai (Firenze!)

Quante volte avrò sentito questa domanda? Comunque sia il conteggio, non basta, ora che non abito più a Firenze.

Quando arrivai a Siena tanti anni fa per studiare -- la prima volta che venni in Italia -- l'accento toscano mi era difficile. Entrando nei negozi, facevo confusione subito, e mi chiedevo, 'Come mai non riesco a capire quello che dice il proprietario (o la commessa)?'

Ora so che la gente che incontravo nei negozi e i ristoranti e i bar di Siena parlava con un accento forte forte. Per una ragazza americana che stava in Italia per imparare la lingua, parlare con i Senesi a volte mi faceva sentire come se qualcuno mi avesse preso in giro, visto che avevo sempre sentito che in italiano si pronunciava ogni lettera a contrasto della mia madrelingua (inglese).

E invece no!

Spesso a Siena (e Firenze e Pisa e ...) non si pronuncia la C! Viene aspirata dopo l'A, per esempio, come tutti gli italiani sanno. E ci sono altre lettere che subiscono una modifica, tipo la Q e la T. 

Difficile quanto, che so, cinese? No -- ma quando arrivi in Italia per la prima volta dall'America con una conoscenza molto limitata della lingua, e nessuno ti dice, 'O guarda questi qui a Siena fanno un macello con la C!' ... qualche difficoltà si pone. 

Ormai ci sono abituata -- infatti aspiro la C anch'io! Come affetto per la regione che mi ha accolto. E quando leggo uno scritto come quello che ho inserito quassù, mi sento quasi coccolata perché posso ben immaginare una persona mentre dice, 'Indo ttuvai?' Con una voce che mi fa ricordare tanti amici fiorentini che parlono cosi.

Elena Ferrante scrisse, "Le lingue per me hanno un veleno secreto."

Nel mio caso, non si tratta proprio di veleno ma invece forse una specie di droga.

Se mi capita di dover pensare della mia vita, concludo che il periodo trascorso a Siena in cui sono diventata bilingue -- cioè, una persona che sa esprimersi non solamente in una lingua ma bensi due -- ha cambiato tutto. Il momento in cui la vita si divide in due -- prima, parlavo solamente inglese, e dopo invece ho capito che parlare solamente in inglese non mi avrebbe più bastato.

Chiudo con questa guida geniale al parlato fiorentino:

https://www.girovagandoioete.it/dialetto-fiorentino/

-30-

Italy is Italy: Chiuso per ferie (Coco Lezzone) -- Fave photos/Italy trip

I often worry that Italy is no longer Italy (like maybe they need the Italian equivalent of 'Keep Austin Weird' bumper stickers everywhere). 

This is for many reasons, including globalization of industries and companies, but tourism, especially from America, is also one culprit, even as it bolsters the Italian economy.

Signs Italy isn't Italy to me: English is everywhere in Italy, often for no good reason. In other words, what at first was used to accommodate tourists has now spread to content/slogans/informational texts that should be in Italian alone.

(As I blogged earlier this year, Paul Auster wrote of his father's visit to Holland where he was disappointed to find everyone spoke English and hence "were denied their Dutchness." Arguably, that's a different situation, of course, because the Dutch were/are using English to communicate with Anglophone people whereas English in Italy is often used, as I said, to communicate with Italians!)

There are also alarming messages everywhere that give you an idea of what some brazen tourist has already tried and what Italian authorities have had to now attempt to rein in (we were visiting one monument where we saw a sign on a high railing in English only: "No climbing.").

I also know the American schedule (and perhaps the English schedule or Japanese schedule) has made its mark. My old friends at the factory where I taught English ( and which is owned by Americans) don't seem to have the choice anymore whether they work to live or live to work.

Not to mention, it's odd to see foreign tourists zooming around on the same kind of scooter we bought Leo for his birthday or in modified golf carts. This wasn't available when I first came to study. Theoretically, it could be progress.

But I always look for a bit of an anthropological strain to my Italian studies -- I want to see how Italians do and say things naturally, without any outside influence.

And they don't zoom around Dante's city in a golf cart. 

But then I see signs like this one at the Florentine restaurant Coco Lezzone (famous for its appearance in the film "I Laureati") and I think, "Italy is still Italy." Chiuso per ferie = closed for vacation. In this case, for an entire month.

I saw similar signs on the doors of other establishments -- in some cases, they had been posted in late July and the businesses wouldn't reopen until sometime in September. That's an Italian-style vacation. Hard to imagine any business in America, save a purely seasonal operation or a family-run ag coop, closing for more than two weeks IF AT ALL. 

Maybe Italy is still Italy.

-30-

The photo I take every time I visit Florence (1966 flood)

A photo of one of the markers commemorating the heights the Arno River reached in 1966 when there was the terrible flood. 

"Qui arrivò l'acqua dell'Arno. Il 4 Nov. 1966."

(The waters of the Arno reached this point. Nov. 4, 1966.")

The markers are everywhere in center city Florence and in some cases, you really marvel at how high the river surged -- markers at the level of the second or third story of a building, for example.  

I was telling Leo about the markers while we walked around the city, and I said that people came from all over the world to help the Florentines recover, largely because the flood damaged countless works of art. To which he said, "Which ones?"

Yeah, Mommy, which ones?

Well, I didn't know but I've begun to research it a bit -- and there are many articles about the flood, especially since the 50th anniversary was in 2016. If you're curious, too, come along.

Take a look at this Art and Antiques piece about a Vasari work that has finally been completely restored.

Or this article from The Florentine about the damage the flood inflicted on the famed Ghiberti doors on the Baptistery in Piazza Duomo -- five of the ten panels were "ripped from their doors by the flood waters."

That was all before my time, of course. But the history of Florence, perhaps especially the modern history, which doesn't seem as remote as say the Medici era, ensnares me a bit like the personal histories of my parents. What shaped these monoliths in my life?

Good thing the kid is so curious -- I've learned all kinds of interesting things! I've also learned not to speak idly -- if I say works of art were destroyed, Leo is going to ask for specifics about which works of art I mean.

-30-

The boarding doors are closing, Jeanne Bonner

It began maybe two days ago -- perhaps more. Pre-emptive sadness. The time in Florence (and in Italy) non basterebbe -- wouldn't be enough.

Odd to think I didn’t see it coming. But I try not to be greedy and I thought, in the case of Florence, a week sounded like plenty of time. Now I see it’s plenty of time to become situated, settled -- and receptive to a longer stay. 

People are without work, some children go to bed hungry, Covid has been raging and the political systems of so many democratic countries seem frighteningly fraught. So the notion that soon I will be heartsick over leaving this small Italian city that I called home years ago is a notion that should cause no one any harm. Not even me. And yet. 

This is the second to the last full day in Florence, and I’ve come to Leo’s room in our flat on Borgo Ognissanti so I can write with a view of green shutters and red tile rooves. 

I do not want to leave. 

I want instead to begin some research grant like I had at the New York Public Library (maybe on 'nostalgia tourism'?! I wrote about it for CNN after a trip to Turin -- just joking or magari! as the Italians would say). I want instead to enroll Leo in Italian lessons at the British Institute (which is also quite good for foreigners who want to learn Italian) or some other school as I had planned. I want instead to go back to Siena, seeing as we came close the other day with Mike’s friend, Dante, during our hike near Arezzo. 

Last night I went to meet Jacqui for a drink at one of the most delightful places I have ever seen – an outdoor bar in Oltrarno between two medieval gates to the city (one leads to Via Pisana, where the large supermarket is). While we spoke, I glanced up at one of the stone archways – rare that the backdrop for a drink is gorgeous, historic, monumental. (The alt title for this post was 'In Florence, picking up where I left off' -- gloriously true with Jacqui!).

Yesterday morning I must have walked five miles. I was out for two hours while the other two slept. I went along the Lungarno to San Niccolò (and through the old city gate, I gazed up at the steep, narrow road I once took to Forte Belvedere on previous monumental walks) and then across my other old bridge (by Santa Croce) then through the old Etruscan streets, to Piazza della Signoria (which was delightful, half-empty) where I realized maybe I could try to get tickets at the Accademia to see the David (the real David) (alas, no).

I will need to transcribe the streets I roamed because it was a monumental walk. Even I lost my bearings at one point (where the streets curve around the Duomo). I feel alive when I am walking (perhaps I've mentioned?). (Like my father before me). And my meanderings were fruitful in in one way: I snapped another picture of a pietra d’inciampo commemorating an Italian victim of the Shoah – in Via dei Pucci.

What I bought yesterday:

Una ciambellina (of course)

Friday’s edition of La Repubblica (which comes with the Venerdi mag)

3 packs of (Italian) Pokemon cards

 

What I bought the day before

Florentine paper goods -- including, of course, a journal

A book by Tabucchi that I wanted (Si sta facendo sempre più tardi)

*

Yesterday: the Boboli gardens. Yesterday: the new museum about the Italian language in Santa Maria Novella (only two rooms so far – one day it will be a proper museum – lots of mentions of Pietro Bembo -- too late to read his treatise on language?)

Also yesterday: realizing seriously the holiday is at a close. You will have to leave Italy, Jeanne Bonner (again). Last call. 

In fact, I am not even going to write much more here because Italy beckons me – from the window of the second bedroom of the Borgo Ognissanti flat where Leo never did actually sleep. I have opened the shutters and the windows, as I mentioned, and the sounds of Italy as it wakes up are filling the room. They are loud and in some ways unforgiving – how urgent all the cars and trucks sound, roaring back from the sleepy Sunday chiusura -- but since I want to be out there with them, they sound just fine. Plus I hear the distinctive sound of the saracinesche -- the shutters -- loudly opening as business for the day gets underway. 

Not to mention the purring of pigeons on the roof above me. 

Even the sound of pigeons is lovely right now. God help me!