Yesterday (Sat, 5/7/14), we went to Florence. Never been before, and everyone had told us we had to visit. Whilst we were so close, it would have been rude not to.
To tell the truth, I’m not really a city person or a culture person: I prefer beaches and mountains, but there’s so much history to Florence, it had to be worth a look. Joy had done some research & figured out the things we were to see & do.
There was no way I was going to take the motorhome into the city, so we drove down to the nearest railway station at S. Pietro A Sieve (remember that exact spelling), about 50 mins down the torturous mountain road) and parked the van there for the day.
Italian trains are brilliant, if not always on time, though I can think of somewhere else like that! And very inexpensive at just €3.40 each for the 1/2 hr trip into the centre of Florence. In typical Italian fashion however, the ticket machine wasn’t working. It’s always a struggle to use these computer-driven machines in a foreign language, and this was no exception. Despite it kindly offering English-language transactions, it still wouldn’t work (“Can’t connect to the network at this time – please wait”. Where might I have seen messages like that before?). After a couple of attempts, and with the departure time getting closer, I let the next person use the machine – reassuringly with the same result. However, she just went round to the cafe and we observed her buying her ticket there. Problem solved.
First stop in Florence was the museum of photography which – when eventually located – turned out to be closed on Saturdays. A pity, as it had an enthusiastic write-up.
Next stop was a fairly lengthy walk to the Piazzale Michelangelo, taking in quick visits of the Basillica di Santa Maria Novella and Chiesa di S.Trinita before reaching the river (Arno). There we had a fabulous view of the famous Ponte Vecchio (bridge), before walking along the river and taking in the most expensive ham & cheese sandwich in the world.
Piazzale Michelangelo contains a large bronze statue of Michelangelo’s David. It’s at the top of a steep climb in the sun. Fortunately, the last, and steepest steps, are in the shade, but we’re both fairly moist by the time we confronted David in all his naked, verdigrised glory.
Fantastic views over the city of Florence, photos taken, italian ice-creams eaten, and then the walk back – over Ponte Vecchio (these days a series of jewellery shops) to the Galleria degli Uffizi – the enormous former Medici building that’s now a famous art gallery.
As stated earlier, I’m no afficianado of fine art, but to see the originals of some of the world’s most famous works of art like Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” and “Spring” was truly awe-inspiring, even though a clear view of it through the throngs of guided tours was difficult.
It’s now getting late having spent much, much longer at the art gallery than we thought we would. A dash back to the station to get our chosen train back, with the misgiving that we’d miss it. We hadn’t – it was delayed and still sitting at the platform. Rush to join the queue at the infamous ticket machine. My turns comes (English version kindly provided again). You have to enter your destination by spelling it out (Dropdown lists don’t seem to have made it this far). I spelled out our destination. Twice. Not found. I let the next people in the queue have the machine whilst I considered options in a slight state of panic. They faffed and farted for ages, before eventually deciding not to buy a ticket. Our train left. Naughty words ensued.
With an hour to wait for the next train, panic left & I was able to rationalise the problem and successfully negotiate ticket acquisition: You can’t request “San Pietro A Sieve”, or “SanPietroASieve” or any one of a hundred different possible permutations. It has to be – absolutely precisely – “S. Pietro A Sieve” before the automaton graciously accepted our desired destination. Tricky one this, as there was no obvious spacebar on the keyboard. Dropdown lists are wonderful things. Perhaps in the future?
Oh well, with an hour to spare, time to find a cafe & a beer. I’ve previously maintained that the most expensive beer I ever bought was a bottle Wiezenbier at Stuttgart airport. This has now been revised to a small cafe near the station in Florence where I was stripped of €14 for 2 half-litres of fizzy italian ordinariness. When we paid, the waiter helpfully advised that each beer would have been €2 less had we sat in the bar rather than outside. I was most grateful for this piece of advice and will surely memorize it for my next visit (not).
Back to the station, getting there a couple of minutes before the designated departure time. A glance at the departure board showed the train was leaving from a platform somewhere in the shimmering distance, rather than the platform in front of us where we’d arrived and from where the last train had departed. Platform 17 was a good 10 minute walk. We had 3 minutes. Deja Vu sets in. Running, with our knackered knees and with all the walking we’d done during the day, was not an entirely enjoyable experience in the by now sinking sun. We made it. The train sat resolutely out in the sticks of platform 17 for a good 10 mins more. Great. Italian trains; gotta love ’em.