sybarites

Things I Never Expected To Do or See; Volume II:

• watch a man carefully place his Pomeranian on top of a station turnstyle in order to feed it from his hands (Florence);
• see a police force mobilized by segways (Florence);
• see a woman train her dog to panhandle by getting it to ‘beg’ over a small bucket of change (Paris);
• darn a hole in a pair of socks for which I paid a dollar;
• run, so as not to miss Act I of the opera in Vienna;
• stay in a room with a balcony over a canal in Venice;

• drink, for lack of anything else, cheap, warm vodka and water;
• ride on 13 different metro systems in 13 cities;
• invent a form of cribbage board using ribbon and safety pins;
• see human skulls and femurs arranged to form an attractive rainbow pattern (catacombs in Paris);
• take this picture;

• play a game of cards where the loser has to wash the winner’s socks by hand;
• eat Italian food in Korea and Korean food in Italy.

Limoncello is a liqueur tasting like lemon meringue pie, but at 30% alcohol, it’s more potent than the average liquor. The first I heard of it was from two friends who had returned from Italy with a gift and a disturbing story.

Renée was studying drama in a small hill town, near where they make limoncello. Michel had gone to visit her before returning to Canada. One night they went out for dinner and drank a bottle of the local specialty. The next day they awoke to find him covered with cuts and bruises, without any recollection of events after the restaurant. While wandering around town they met a fellow who, in a very concerned tone, inquired into his health. It turned out Michel had fallen down a flight of stairs and this fellow had carried him to their hotel. They recalled none of this.

A bottle of limoncello was then gifted to our mutual friend, Danny, along with this story. It sat on top of his fridge for many months. I would frequently look up at the tall tapering bottle with fear and curiosity. Danny said he was saving it for a special occasion, but I think he may have been afraid of it too. It may sit there to this day.

After weeks of trying to book a romantic hotel using my Visa points, we gave up and booked one of the cheapest places we could find on HostelWorld—twin beds with a shared bathroom. It turned out quite well. Although the room is a little institutional, twin beds can be cosy and we were given a room with a small balcony overlooking a busy canal intersection.

We spend a lot of time in our hotel room, but we don’t feel like we are missing anything. At any moment we can look out and see three small bridges. One is continuously covered with tourists on their way to or from Piazza San Marco. They take pictures of us from several different vantage points. It reminds me of the Chinese tourists, who took many pictures of us, albeit for different reasons. In the intersection is a continuous stream of gondolas leaning to pass under one of the lowest bridges, water taxi pilots shouting at gondoliers to move to the side, and delivery boats waiting for a lull in the traffic. Isn’t that what Venice is really about?

Well, it’s romantic too—despite the hordes of tourists, the atrocious prices and arguing about grammar. It’s nice to wander and resist the temptation to check the map. We’ve wandered down a couple of dead-end alleyways to find isolated docks which look onto the larger canals. The tourists tend to congregate on the bridges while on their way from one tourist mecca to another, but there are still a few spots with a good view that provide a few moments of privacy.

We escaped the sheer boredom of renaissance Florence for medieval Siena. The train trip was quick and comfortable, a far cry from the hard seats in China. It’s also nice to see a new city without baggage or searching backstreets for the hotel.

The piazza was supposed to be one of the most beautiful in Italy, but wandering narrow streets and stumbling across lookout points was just as enjoyable.

The Medici fortress was nearly deserted and provided a great view of the hill town.

We found much to enjoy in Florence.  The weather was warm and bright, the trees are still a pretty green and the churches and museums are quite extraordinary.  This makes up for the 10 million tchotchke-buying, 3-camera-toting, McDonald’s-eating, cigar-smoking, baggage overloaded*, plump tourist which one must move through in order to enjoy said museums and churches.  I’m not complaining;  I’m one of the tourists.  But I don’t know how the Tuscans do it.  It is September, the end of tourist season, and still they find the will to smile.  Outstanding.

Most especially, we have enjoyed the food here. To be frank, I wasn’t expecting a lot whilst here because it’s hard for a tourist (like me!) to find a non-tourist joint that serves more than pizza and spaghetti and doesn’t charge 20 euro for the experience. However, we miraculously stumbled across 2 excellent places just a block from our hotel. The first is a cafe/bar at which we have cappuccini and croissants each morning. We had only been in twice before they remembered who we were and what we wanted. How delightful to find such a nice routine! The second place is a diner, of all things, with round booths and menus printed on paper place mats. We originally went in because we were hungry and couldn’t walk any further but were so happy to have great bruschetta, warm, chicken-liver tapenade, homemade tagliatelle and ravioli with walnut cream sauce. It was like our beloved Diner Deluxe. We even got freshly grated parmesan and a half-liter of unexpectedly good house wine. In half an hour, we are going back for another meal.

* As a sidebar, I can’t help but make an example of the couple we saw on our day-trip to Siena today. A young couple, they had TEN pieces of luggage with them, not including the heavy jacket and sweater they were carrying outside the bags. I don’t know how they manouever at all because it took several minutes blocking the door to the carriage to get off in Siena and they would’ve had to make it down and up two sets of stairs before even entering the station. And try to find a taxi that will fit all that luggage. Wow.

After we arrived to some gorgeous weather, we swung into full tourist mode.  This involved seeing, at a swift pace, several sites in the city in succession, with little pause for breaks or meals or rest for barking dogs.  This was the truly un-Roman part of our stay here.  Romans don’t visit the Colosseum!

They don’t tramp through the Forum on foot under the hot sun (why would you when you can weave through ultra-congested traffic on a scooter instead), and they don’t, under any circumstances, skip a meal.   We should’ve followed their example and stayed away from the Spanish Steps

and Trevi fountain during tourist season because we couldn’t get near the latter and couldn’t see the former for the tourists.  Literally.

However, we did “do as the Romans do” a couple of times:  I bought HUGE sunglasses and wore them everywhere, even on the metro;   we admired the greenery and the beautiful trees that can be seen on hillsides and along the river;  and we did take Sunday off to laze about on the balcony of our hotel and enjoy some parmigiano, fresh mozzarella and olives with our wine.