One day in Florence

After a wonderful day in Pisa with our home school friend Tracy, we took the train to Florence. Italian trains are convenient and comfortable. Unlike Roman buses, which I'll discuss later.

Our accommodations in Firenze (Florence) were at Relais Cavalcanti. It's nestled among various restaurants, shops, and outdoor markets. The lovely owners, Anna and Francesca, were the most gracious hosts, available to help in any they could .

Relais Cavalcanti is located on the fourth floor of an old historic building built in the 13th century It was owned by the noble Cavalcanti family, whose name the esablishment adopted.

Since the 13th century did not use elevators, modern builders did their best to cram one into the building, which means that it is diminutive. First there was a door which one opened with a key, revealing the elevator gate. The three of us barely fit inside. The picture at right is not a display of affection between my husband and son....that's just how close we had to stand to fit!

Luggage had to be lugged up the stairs. I guess that's why it is called luggage! At least this task only had to be performed once!

The proprietors, Anna and Francesa, are two of the friendliest woman you'd ever want to meet. They bent over backwards to help us with tours, restaurants, directions, transportation. They claim not to serve breakfast, whichI suppose is technically true; however, their breakfast room is always laid out with Italian delights. My favorite was palmine, a flaky glazed pastry that quickly became my breakfast each day.

Our room was spacious and had a view of the side street on which Relais Cavalcanti resides.

There is a lot to see in Florence, but just wandering around and absorbing Italian culture is a highlight not to be missed. It is easy to get around. In fact, I recommend walking - you'll need to after you experience Italian cuisine! I'll focus on that in a later post.

A gem of Florence is the Uffizi Gallery, built in 1581 to house the offices of the powerful Medici family. Over time, it evolved into a display for the many works of arts collected by the Medici. One of the more famous works is The Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli.

But the highlight for us was The David. The original is housed at Galleria dell'Accadamia...don't settle for the copy! But beware of the scam artists (pun intended) who display their reproductions on the sidewalk in front of the Accademia - literally on the sidewalk like a throw rug. Tourists are intent on getting in the door and don't pay attention to where their feet are being placed.

Yes, I am talking about myself.

After placing said feet on reproductions just waiting for an oblivious tourist, Italian men surrounded me. I can only assume they wanted me to pay for damages done. I muttered an apology and proceeded to the gallery entrance. Kevin, the conscientious person that he is, stayed behind. I asked a security guard inside if I should pay and he emphatically (as only an Italian can do) declared, "No! No pay!"

I went back outside to find Kevin with a print rolled under his arm and called to him, "Don't! Do not pay them!" He handed the print back to the vendor and followed us in, leaving behind one disgusted Italian scam artist.

Don't get me wrong, We absolutely fell in love with the Italian people; however, Italy has its share of scammers and thieves. Beware!

One could spend hours wandering through either of these galleries, so don't waste your time standing in line to get in. Pay the nominal extra fee to obtain a reservation. Arrive early to ensure your entry.

More to come...

Fat Tires, Wide Paths, and Tons of History

It could take a lifetime to see any of the European capital cities. Seeing just one in a matter of days takes some careful planning and really comfortable walking shoes! Unless, of course, you are on a bicycle. It's a terrific way to see the major sights of the city with a knowledgeable guide who speaks English! You can see a whole lot more with less effort. Only one company is licensed to run bike tours in Paris: Fat Tire Bike Tours.

Our guide, Seth, related an informative history of the Tour Eiffel (Eiffel Tower) as we waited for our group to gather and for any onlookers to join us. We were comprised of mostly Americans from all regions of the U.S., but with a couple of things in common - the ability to ride a bike and a somewhat adventurous spirit.

We visited the Ecole Militaire (Royal Military Academy), which was founded by Louis XV in 1751. Its objective was to make poor gentlemen into military men. Napoleon Bonaparte was trained here in 1784.

Not all of Paris is busy roads filled with micro cars. There are plenty of wide pathways for pedestrians and bicyclists, as well as weekly open markets.

On this particular day, we got a taste of the French proclivity for protests. Unfortunately, we couldn't read the French banners or understand the French chants. Judging by their attire, we guessed they were medical personnel.




Our next stop was Napoleon's Tomb at the Dome Church, built in 1715. The dome is actually double, a fact unknown to the Germans of World War II. Hitler visited and stayed for three hours, apparently communing with Napoleon. At the same time, two Allied servicemen were hiding in the dome, waiting to be smuggled out of the city with intelligence information. Neither knew the other was there!

Next up was Hôtel des Invalides, founded by

Louis XIV to shelter 7000 aged or crippled

former soldiers. A small portion is still used as a hospital. Napoleon's cannons line the front.

After passing over the Alexander Bridge, we arrived at Place de la Concorde, the largest public square in Paris, which is flanked by Champs-Élysées to the west and the Tuileries Gardens to the east.

We made a delightful stop at an open cafe in the Gardens, La Terrasse de Pomone. I ordered a

cheese crepe and hot chocolate. Unfortunately, someone spilled their wine and thoroughly soaked my crepe, so I cannot tell you if was as good as the ones from the crepe stand in Le Marais or not.

Our final stop was the Louvre art museum. I posted about it here. I will add this one amazing fact: if you were to spend one minute with each work of art and did this 24 hours a day, it would take nine months to see everything! It is a true treasure and you should go if you have the chance.

This bike tour was one of the highlights of our trip. We saw so much in four hours!

Familiar food, please

I'm going to jump ahead in time here and tell you a story about Spain.

We had been in Europe almost three weeks by this time and had had a wide variety of gastronomic experiences. In Spain, this was mostly a search for the perfect paella, which is a dish mostly comprised of rice, saffron, and various meats: shellfish, chicken, and/or rabbit. The resort at which we stayed had a cooking demonstration at the beginning of our stay and served it. My mouth waters now as I remember it. It takes at least forty-five minutes to prepare properly and is well worth the wait.

We visited three other restaurants in the area and it just didn't compare to the paella served at the resort. I don't really remember what else we ate during our stay in Spain, except this one other day....

So one day we traveled up to Granada to see La Alhambra. It was a hot day and we were exhausted by the end of it. We decided to go for something familiar for dinner: Burger King! I can read Spanish pretty well and figured it would be a breeze to order. Besides, there are pictures on the menu board!

So we sauntered up to the counter, made our choices - in Spanish - and honestly, were quite pleased with ourselves.

While we waited for our order, I went in search of the condiment stand to find ketchup. No stand to be found anywhere!

Fast food in Spain is not as fast as fast food in the United States, so I sat down and perused my Spanish phrase book, looking for the Spanish word for ketchup. Not in the shopping section. Not in the restaurant section. Not in the miniature dictionary in the back, either.

So we started brainstorming. Daniel and I had read the Ralph Moody series of books and had often recalled the story of the wrangler who was trampled by a horse. A boy had found him and reported back to the ranch, "Completamente aplastada!" Completely squashed.

Okay. Tomato aplastada might do it.

Satisfied that we could communicate our need to the order taker, we went up to the counter to retrieve our food. The clerk slid the tray across the counter and said, "Ketchup?"

No wonder they revolted

After our transportation mishap, we arrived at Versailles in the very late afternoon. Fortunately, we had purchased the Paris Museum Pass, so didn't worry about paying so much for so little time.

We stopped at the information desk to inquire about what we could see in the hour and a half we had until closing. When asked which language guide pamphlet we would like, I responded, "English! I've been trying to speak French all day."

"Would you like to practice right now?"

What a dear man he was. The French have gained a reputation for being snooty, but I just didn't see it in anyone we met. He was willing to put up with my attempts to speak his language, but I very politely told him, "No, thank you. My brain is very tired." He chuckled, handed us our pamphlets, and off we went in search of the Hall of Mirrors, one of the most famous rooms in the world. This is where the treaty of Versailles was signed in 1918 at the close of World War I.

One could spend hours just in this hall. The paintings, the sculptures, the chandeliers, the window latches are all just breathtakingly beautiful.

Window latches? Yes! I've never seen such an ornate latch. And of course the view out the window is just as beautiful!

The gardens are extensive and would take hours to explore. I found myself wishing for a bicycle. You can see in the photo how far they stretch.

We got some stares as we tried to do a self-portrait in the mirror. You know how it is. One member of the family is usually the one behind the camera. I'm that person and Kevin was behind the video camera.

Beyond the Hall of Mirrors are various other chambers, salons, waiting rooms. libraries - all fixed with sumptuous furnishings and art. This photo is part of the Queen's Chamber - just the top of her bed!

The site began as Louis XIII’s hunting lodge before his son Louis XIV transformed and expanded it, moving the court and government of France to Versailles in 1682. (You can bet they weren't all too happy about that!) Each of the three French kings who lived there until the French Revolution added improvements to make it more beautiful.

The opulence is astounding. I found myself thinking more than once,"No wonder the French revolted!" Louis XIV built it as a symbol of royal absolutism. Unfortunately, the people disagreed. According to the Chateau de Versailles web site, "The château lost its standing as the official seat of power in 1789." Quite an understatement, I think.

The kings of France placed their treasures in possessions. I won't presume to know their spiritual status - let God be their Judge - but they definitely had earthly riches. So I find myself thinking about where my treasure lies. And I'm going to continue to do some soul searching to be sure they lie in heaven.

Dog Syndrome

A dog will sit and listen attentively to every word you speak. It will understand very few words, but will cock its head when it recognizes one. My dogs' vocabulary consist of: sit, stay, down, up, out, inside, off, breakfast, dinner, treat, walk, ride, mail, crawl to me, only on Friday, dance, pretty, come, and on the rug. And maybe a few others which I've forgotten.

Not very extensive.

Neither is my vocabulary outside the English language.

As we strolled the streets of Paris, we found that we heard a lot of languages: French, Dutch, German, and Italian mostly. But once in a while, our ears would catch English.

"Did you hear that?! English!"

We were thrilled to find a bookstore in Paris called Shakespeare and Company. A lovely young English woman runs the place. I believe her mother ran it before she did. It was so refreshing to hear my native tongue again and to chat with her about restaurant recommendations.



We began to refer to this phenomenon as Dog Syndrome and this would be our joke in every country in which we traveled. Communication with those who didn't speak English was the biggest challenge of our time in Europe. Read my other posts for some amusing stories of our experiences!

Sometimes in my relationship with the Lord, I find myself struggling to understand what He is saying to me. I have to listen intently to hear His voice speaking to me. Sometimes I find myself hearing what I want to hear and other times something I don't want to hear.

My prayer is that God would give me dog ears - to hang on every word of my Master.

"Have we been ripped off?"

After parting ways with French Woman with a Dog, we found a crepe stand open. We tried the crepe avec jambon et fromage (with ham and cheese). This became a frequent stop for us during our stay. They are delicious and really filling!


The day was starting out really chilly, but we braved it and sat as long as we could, watching the Parisians parade by us. We wandered around the George Pompidou Centre area, but found that lugging six suitcases was not fun, especially since my guys had to handle them all. (Neurosurgeon's orders!)

The time finally got close enough to noon to park ourselves in front of the outer apartment door. There we stood, surrounded by our bags and looking rather homeless. We'd been up for about 36 hours by this time!

A woman emerged from the apartment building and asked, "Are you waiting for someone?" In English!

"Yes, we are renting an apartment short-term."

"Oooooooh. There was a company renting short-term and it turned out they were crooks. I hope it wasn't my apartment they rented to you!"

Groan.

And with that, she strolled on down the street. And panic struck.

Had we been ripped off? What would we do? We have six bags, two sets of tired arms, and three pretty exhausted people. How could we find a hotel at this point? We were not in a touristy area, so no hotels were in sight. We'd have to get back on the Metro, go to a hotelish area, and start asking. And hotels are so much more expensive! Our deposit was lining somebody's pockets and we were out a few hundred dollars.

We stood there, dejected and worried. Our trip was off to a very bad start indeed.

About fifteen minutes passed and a young man emerged from the building.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

What? Is this the question of the day or something?

I repeated my answer, "Yes, we are renting an apartment short-term."

"Oh. Let me check for you."

Well, that sounded more positive.

He returned a few minutes later and asked, "Is your name ...?"

"Yes!"

"Okay. Come on in."

We were relieved, to say the least. I could not wait to get inside and set some sleep!

Two Italian Men

Traveling to a foreign country is a true adventure. Experiencing the culture up close and personally is only done by spending time with the people. Not the tourists who have cameras dangling from their necks, although they can be an adventure also, but the locals.

On our recent trip to Europe, we endeavored to stay in short-term rental apartments and B&B's when we could. This led to experiences we never would have had otherwise.

Let's start with Italy.


We rented an apartment (pictured above) in the Trestavere (tress TAH vare eh) neighborhood, far from the madding crowds who frequent the more touristy areas of Rome. It was on a side street, part of a maze that got us lost trying to find it on our first day. There were numerous small restaurants nearby, along with bakeries and small grocers.

Our first night required that we do some laundry, having already been travelling for 16 days. I was thrilled that there was a washing machine. A small one, but a washing machine nonetheless. The rental agency representative showed me how to use it upon our check in, while Kevin had chatted with another rep.That was the first mistake! I was fatigued and knew I probably wouldn't remember all the buttons and their purposes.

I proceeded to load it with a small load. Well, a small load for me, anyway. When I went to unload it, I discovered that the machine was still half filled with water. We fiddled with the buttons, all to no avail. The rental agency office opened at noon, so I emailed them to explain our problem, knowing that they would see it as soon as they opened....or maybe sooner.

In the morning, Kevin and Daniel went to the local grocer to buy bread, milk, etc for breakfast. Upon their return, there was a man waiting at the apartment door. Assuming he was there to repair the washing machine, we let him in.

The thing about traveling to a foreign country is that they often don't speak your language!

This was definitely true in our case.

I led him out to the balcony, where the offending machine resided in a closet. The man shook his head.

Oh.

The man started explaining - in Italian - what he wanted. He found the electric box on the kitchen wall and made motions of snipping wires. What?!

He wanted to turn off the electricity! He showed Kevin a bill with an outstanding balance.

We tried to explain that we did not own the apartment and were just renting it for a few days. This did not sink in.

The man motioned as if he were writing and said "Escrive?" At least, that's what I thought he said. Ah! Write it down! Maybe he can read English or we can read Italian better than we hear it!

I'd like to give credit to whom credit is due, but I don't remember who came up with the idea of using the Internet to translate. Brilliant! We went to the babelfish web site and merrily typed back and forth, both shaking our heads as we tried to understand each other. It became quite comical, but frustrating at the same time. I imagine he was truly baffled when the computer screen said we were renting from under the roman sun, not knowing it was the rental agency name!

The man was determined. The electricity must be turned off. We finally called the rental agency and explained our problem. The person who answered the phone told us something to the effect of calling back.

Were we supposed to call them back? Were they going to call us back?

As we were about to call them again, a knock came upon the door. We let yet another Italian man into our apartment. He began conversing with Italian Electric Man. After a few minutes, Italian Electric Man departed. I turned to Italian Man II and asked "Parla inglese?"

"Yes, I speak English."

Oh, hooray!

Apparently, the apartment owner had been away from Rome for several months and had not settled his bill. Italian Man II had convinced him to wait.

Italians are wonderful people. They help one another out whenever they can. You see, Italian Man II didn't even work for the rental agency. He was just a friend who lived in the area. The agency had asked him to come over and intervene, which he did willingly and happily.

I just love the Italian people.