Florence to Venice
Trip Start
Nov 16, 1995
1
8
10
Trip End
Nov 25, 1995

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It's sunny again, but still cold. A great breakfast is enjoyed in a saloon with a painted, chandeliered ceiling overlooking the Arno . Antonio, the owner, is very pleasant and helpful in advising us what to see in the short time we have left in Florence .
Off we go to the Galleria dell' Accademia to see David. We pass the San Lorenzo Market again on the way. Miryam looks at more handbags...and I buy another belt. We pop into the Medici Chapel in San Lorenzo church. There we find an English group avidly listening to their guide explain the details of a large fresco. We visit the chapel, admiring the gorgeous baroque decorations. On the way out, find the group still gathered beside the fresco, watching fascinated as the guide, stretched out prostrate on the floor, demonstrates some fine point of the painting. This sure isn't a Globus group!
The Academy of Fine Arts is located in the University. You can see the students here are politically active. Hammers and sickles are painted all over the walls, as well as posters expressing encouragement to the beleaguered Marxists of Cuba. This must be one of the last bastions of Communism. Somehow or other, I don't think Michelangelo would have approved that his David, representing a radical break from repressive power to individual freedom, is located only a few yards from these misguided students.
The Museum of the Academy is a far friendlier place than the Uffizi. Maybe the sunshine, or the clean, fresh presentation of the paintings, or just the glorious spectacle of David, towering over all of us in the gallery built just for him. Even if you think it corny to say this, I will. David is magnificent, awe-inspiring and without a doubt, worth travelling around the world to see, as the presence of innumerable Japanese tourists demonstrates. After this spiritual experience, one thinks that nothing can compare, but of course it does. Brunelleshi's glorious dome in the Cathedral. The church itself is huge, and though I did not find it outstanding, it is certainly impressive. This is the fourth largest Christian church, so we now have the dubious honour of having visited the four largest churches in Christendom, St. Peter's, Rome ; St. Paul 's, London ; The Cathedral, Seville ; and now Il Duomo, Florence .
Across from the Cathedral is the baptistery, with the gleaming bronze doors created by master Renaissance artist Ghiberti. Just down the Via Calz is the Piazza della Signoria, with its great statutes. Beyond that one of the world's most famous and photographed bridges, the Ponte Vecchio. This is a cultural overdose, and we have to leave before we get hooked on Florence !
Miryam and Bryan walk back to the hotel. I go to find the car, paying the extortionate fee. We ask for instructions on leaving the town, and Antonio puts me off the idea of driving over the Apennines on minor roads!
But first we must visit the Piazalle Michelangelo, where the most memorable views of Florence can be obtained. Originally I had planned to include it in one of our walks. Fortunately we never tried it, as it's about a five mile drive up a winding road from the hotel. The view is all it's made out to be, and our photos prove that. On the way out of Florence , I managed to go the wrong way up a one way street. The Italian drivers were most helpful when they saw I was a tourist, and they actually gave me a chance to turn back. Believe it or not, no horn was sounded.
Out of town we take the motorway over the Apennine Mountains to Bolonga. The mountains are not particularly spectacular here, and the road sweeps though without seeming to climb and descend overly much. Bryan is trembling in anticipation to see the place his favourite sandwich stuffer comes from. He is disappointed when we by-pass this great city.
We continue speeding over the flat Po valley towards Modena . Just a minute! Modena ? We aren't supposed to be going towards Modena , we are supposed to be going towards Parma . Somehow or other, we missed the turn, and now had to return to Bologna . As we exited the motorway, we realized we would have to pay a toll to re-enter it (the layout is similar to the Florida Turnpike), so we do a bit of quick thinking, and managed to slip over from the exit to the entry lane without being carried off by an eighteen-wheeler.
We soon find the right road, and are off in the right direction to Venice . The country is flat and uninteresting. Long straight canals with high embankments criss-cross the land, which reminds us of the lower Mississippi basin.
It is getting dark, and we approach the less aesthetic parts of this city. Somehow or other, one does not associate industry with Venice , but of course great cities cannot live on tourism alone. We plan to drop off the car today at the airport, as it will be quite useless in Venice . On exit from the motorway we are charged a US$ 13.00 toll, not bad for the distance we have travelled. We also fill up with petrol, to the tune of (gulp) US$ 62.50. On arrival at the airport, which is to the east of the city, we follow the signs to the rental car parking. It is all locked up and in darkness. I drop Miryam off at the airport to find out what we should do with our trusty chariot, and she locates National. It's almost as if everyone at the airport is determined to be as unpleasant as possible. The lady at the car rental is exceptionally unhelpful. I eventually locate the parking lot, which is packed to the gills with other cars of all companies. I find a small space, and just walk away. We have filled the tank, so there is no reason to discuss anything more with our disagreeable National lady except drop the key on her desk. After interrogating all and sundry, we eventually ascertain that we have three choices on how to get to Venice . Prices are for all three of us. Guess which one we take?
1. By private water taxi, @ US$ 65.00
2. Public vaporetto, @ US$ 28.00
3. Airport bus and local vaporetto @ US$ 17.00
We board the bus, which will take us from the mainland over the causeway to the Piazzale Roma on the Island of Venice . From here on there is no wheeled traffic, not even Vespas. The drive through suburban, industrial mainland Venice in is not exactly prosaic, and we land up in a vast, smelly bus parking lot. We load our suitcases onto our wheels, are shown the vaporetto (water bus) stop, and join the cognoscenti there. Our hotel is the Splendid Suisse, and we are told that the Rialto is the closest stop.
As soon as we set sail, we realize that this is the Venice of our dreams, a little grubbier and decrepid than we expected, but the Venice of palazzos and the Grande Canal. We steam past the Ca d'Oro and under the Rialto bridge. Just on the other side, we dock, and nervously descend from the vessel, uncertain of where to go next. We ask a kind looking pedestrian about the Splendid Suisse, fully expecting to be sent to Geneva , but who not only has heard of the hotel, but knows where it is! He points down a narrow street and tells us to just keep going. We are in an area of stores, and feel out of place hauling our baggage through the shoppers. The streets are narrow, and our suitcase is the only wheeled vehicle in sight. "Are we on the right street for the Splendid Suisse" we ask? "Yes, straight ahead", we are told. After about three or four blocks the street seems to end in a canal, but as we turn the corner, we see a large illuminated sign indicating that we had arrived.
We cross a tiny bridge over the canal and enter the lobby. The reservation is all in order, and we are sent across the alley to the annex where, in fact, the restaurant and bar are located. On the way to the lift, we negotiate masses of suitcases pertaining to an arriving Japanese group. Our room is unexpectedly grand, with a double bed for ourselves, and an additional single room for Bryan (who is thrilled to death), all nicely furnished in motel moderne. The bathroom sports the unfailing hair-drier. The only bathroom up to now not having a hair drier was the Pensione Bretagna.
Our plan for this evening is to follow Rick Steve's ingenious "Stand-up Progressive Venetian Pub Crawl Dinner". This consists of walking from one Ăcibeti pub to another, enjoying some wine and hors d'oevres at each one on a Ăgiro di ombre. We commence our "crawl" at 8:00 pm , Miryam being somewhat incredulous after my failure in Rome . But I assure her that this will be fun and give us the chance to eat and drink like locals. Just before we start down the first dark alley, we pass a flashy modern self-service restaurant. Miryam looks longingly at the array of food under the glass partitions. "Not here" I say, "Let's go native".
The directions seem clear, but when you actually try to follow them at night, they seem to take you into Dante's Inferno. The alleys of Venice may seem charming by day, but by night they are ill lit, cold, twist and turn in all directions and look extremely dangerous. In fact, they are not dangerous at all, but this is our first night in town, and we are not to know. After some help from locals, we arrive at the first "pub", Osteria Alberto on Calle Malvasia. It's packed to the gills and not a table to be had. We consider out options. We can either stand at the bar here and munch on the evil looking hors d'oevres, or take our chances at the next pub. We follow the instructions, which send us deeper and deeper into a Venice never seen by the average visitor. In fact, it was so desolate that we had not seen a single Japanese tourist for at least ten minutes! After some dead end alleys, and a small square with a bleak looking pizzaria, we eventually arrive at the second pub. It is packed to the gills and not a table to be had. We consider our options. We can either stand at the bar....just a minute...haven't we just been through all this? This whole thing is not coming out as planned. Realizing that Rick Steves probably didn't do his pub crawl on a Friday night in the dead of winter, we decide to give up the attempt, and with tails between our legs, we retrace our steps. The pizzaria is already closed as we pass by the little square, and the first pub is just turning out its patrons. The self-service restaurant is dark, and I'm in trouble! Miryam and Bryan are amused, and rather hungry.
At last we espy a likely looking place, Ristorante Aquila Nera, and we have little option but to enter. It's pricey, but I select a very reasonable fish dish, at $7.50. It's a whole grilled fish, head and all, filleted rather inartistically at the table, and just left as is. Not a potato nor a sprig of parsley! Mum and Bryan intelligently have pasta again. When the bill comes I am astounded that my miserable fish has become caviar and is now $18.00. I query the amount, and it is pointed out that fish is quoted at $7.50 per 100 grams of weight, and that my dinner weighed in at 250 grams! To top it all we are also charged cover and service. The two plates of spaghetti and the denizen from the smelly canal, came out to $ 53.00, by far our most expensive outing yet. Guess how much the waiter made as a tip?
After dinner, we don't give up, and continue on our walk. We arrive at the Piazza San Marco. It is now 10:30 pm , very cold, and the great square is almost abandoned. In the summer, the square would be humming with activity at this time, with the sidewalk cafes full of light and music. Now we had the square to ourselves, and the famous pigeons were huddled in heaps around lamp posts and waste paper baskets. We did a quick circuit admiring the surrounding buildings, the Doge's Palace and St. Mark's Cathedral. We also see several of the well known San Marco hotels, such as the Danielli, Luna Baglione, Monaco and Grand Canal . They look very plush and expensive. None the less, we are quite happy with our accommodations, and as we will spend so little time in them, the price is right. The multitude of narrow alleys and passages in Venice is extremely confusing. Street names seem to change on every block, the numeration is only logical to Venetians and the constant twists and turns upset your sense of direction. Fortunately Venice is an island, so you can't get too lost, and there being no high crime area on the island, there is little danger, other than falling into a canal. The locals are kind and hospitable, always attempting to direct us as best they could.
Returning from St. Mark's Square, we pass over a narrow canal and see the lights of our hotel, yet we still get lost again! Finally we encounter our abode, and enter the warmth. It's almost midnight .
Off we go to the Galleria dell' Accademia to see David. We pass the San Lorenzo Market again on the way. Miryam looks at more handbags...and I buy another belt. We pop into the Medici Chapel in San Lorenzo church. There we find an English group avidly listening to their guide explain the details of a large fresco. We visit the chapel, admiring the gorgeous baroque decorations. On the way out, find the group still gathered beside the fresco, watching fascinated as the guide, stretched out prostrate on the floor, demonstrates some fine point of the painting. This sure isn't a Globus group!
The Academy of Fine Arts is located in the University. You can see the students here are politically active. Hammers and sickles are painted all over the walls, as well as posters expressing encouragement to the beleaguered Marxists of Cuba. This must be one of the last bastions of Communism. Somehow or other, I don't think Michelangelo would have approved that his David, representing a radical break from repressive power to individual freedom, is located only a few yards from these misguided students.
The Museum of the Academy is a far friendlier place than the Uffizi. Maybe the sunshine, or the clean, fresh presentation of the paintings, or just the glorious spectacle of David, towering over all of us in the gallery built just for him. Even if you think it corny to say this, I will. David is magnificent, awe-inspiring and without a doubt, worth travelling around the world to see, as the presence of innumerable Japanese tourists demonstrates. After this spiritual experience, one thinks that nothing can compare, but of course it does. Brunelleshi's glorious dome in the Cathedral. The church itself is huge, and though I did not find it outstanding, it is certainly impressive. This is the fourth largest Christian church, so we now have the dubious honour of having visited the four largest churches in Christendom, St. Peter's, Rome ; St. Paul 's, London ; The Cathedral, Seville ; and now Il Duomo, Florence .
Across from the Cathedral is the baptistery, with the gleaming bronze doors created by master Renaissance artist Ghiberti. Just down the Via Calz is the Piazza della Signoria, with its great statutes. Beyond that one of the world's most famous and photographed bridges, the Ponte Vecchio. This is a cultural overdose, and we have to leave before we get hooked on Florence !
Miryam and Bryan walk back to the hotel. I go to find the car, paying the extortionate fee. We ask for instructions on leaving the town, and Antonio puts me off the idea of driving over the Apennines on minor roads!
But first we must visit the Piazalle Michelangelo, where the most memorable views of Florence can be obtained. Originally I had planned to include it in one of our walks. Fortunately we never tried it, as it's about a five mile drive up a winding road from the hotel. The view is all it's made out to be, and our photos prove that. On the way out of Florence , I managed to go the wrong way up a one way street. The Italian drivers were most helpful when they saw I was a tourist, and they actually gave me a chance to turn back. Believe it or not, no horn was sounded.
Out of town we take the motorway over the Apennine Mountains to Bolonga. The mountains are not particularly spectacular here, and the road sweeps though without seeming to climb and descend overly much. Bryan is trembling in anticipation to see the place his favourite sandwich stuffer comes from. He is disappointed when we by-pass this great city.
We continue speeding over the flat Po valley towards Modena . Just a minute! Modena ? We aren't supposed to be going towards Modena , we are supposed to be going towards Parma . Somehow or other, we missed the turn, and now had to return to Bologna . As we exited the motorway, we realized we would have to pay a toll to re-enter it (the layout is similar to the Florida Turnpike), so we do a bit of quick thinking, and managed to slip over from the exit to the entry lane without being carried off by an eighteen-wheeler.
We soon find the right road, and are off in the right direction to Venice . The country is flat and uninteresting. Long straight canals with high embankments criss-cross the land, which reminds us of the lower Mississippi basin.
It is getting dark, and we approach the less aesthetic parts of this city. Somehow or other, one does not associate industry with Venice , but of course great cities cannot live on tourism alone. We plan to drop off the car today at the airport, as it will be quite useless in Venice . On exit from the motorway we are charged a US$ 13.00 toll, not bad for the distance we have travelled. We also fill up with petrol, to the tune of (gulp) US$ 62.50. On arrival at the airport, which is to the east of the city, we follow the signs to the rental car parking. It is all locked up and in darkness. I drop Miryam off at the airport to find out what we should do with our trusty chariot, and she locates National. It's almost as if everyone at the airport is determined to be as unpleasant as possible. The lady at the car rental is exceptionally unhelpful. I eventually locate the parking lot, which is packed to the gills with other cars of all companies. I find a small space, and just walk away. We have filled the tank, so there is no reason to discuss anything more with our disagreeable National lady except drop the key on her desk. After interrogating all and sundry, we eventually ascertain that we have three choices on how to get to Venice . Prices are for all three of us. Guess which one we take?
1. By private water taxi, @ US$ 65.00
2. Public vaporetto, @ US$ 28.00
3. Airport bus and local vaporetto @ US$ 17.00
We board the bus, which will take us from the mainland over the causeway to the Piazzale Roma on the Island of Venice . From here on there is no wheeled traffic, not even Vespas. The drive through suburban, industrial mainland Venice in is not exactly prosaic, and we land up in a vast, smelly bus parking lot. We load our suitcases onto our wheels, are shown the vaporetto (water bus) stop, and join the cognoscenti there. Our hotel is the Splendid Suisse, and we are told that the Rialto is the closest stop.
As soon as we set sail, we realize that this is the Venice of our dreams, a little grubbier and decrepid than we expected, but the Venice of palazzos and the Grande Canal. We steam past the Ca d'Oro and under the Rialto bridge. Just on the other side, we dock, and nervously descend from the vessel, uncertain of where to go next. We ask a kind looking pedestrian about the Splendid Suisse, fully expecting to be sent to Geneva , but who not only has heard of the hotel, but knows where it is! He points down a narrow street and tells us to just keep going. We are in an area of stores, and feel out of place hauling our baggage through the shoppers. The streets are narrow, and our suitcase is the only wheeled vehicle in sight. "Are we on the right street for the Splendid Suisse" we ask? "Yes, straight ahead", we are told. After about three or four blocks the street seems to end in a canal, but as we turn the corner, we see a large illuminated sign indicating that we had arrived.
We cross a tiny bridge over the canal and enter the lobby. The reservation is all in order, and we are sent across the alley to the annex where, in fact, the restaurant and bar are located. On the way to the lift, we negotiate masses of suitcases pertaining to an arriving Japanese group. Our room is unexpectedly grand, with a double bed for ourselves, and an additional single room for Bryan (who is thrilled to death), all nicely furnished in motel moderne. The bathroom sports the unfailing hair-drier. The only bathroom up to now not having a hair drier was the Pensione Bretagna.
Our plan for this evening is to follow Rick Steve's ingenious "Stand-up Progressive Venetian Pub Crawl Dinner". This consists of walking from one Ăcibeti pub to another, enjoying some wine and hors d'oevres at each one on a Ăgiro di ombre. We commence our "crawl" at 8:00 pm , Miryam being somewhat incredulous after my failure in Rome . But I assure her that this will be fun and give us the chance to eat and drink like locals. Just before we start down the first dark alley, we pass a flashy modern self-service restaurant. Miryam looks longingly at the array of food under the glass partitions. "Not here" I say, "Let's go native".
The directions seem clear, but when you actually try to follow them at night, they seem to take you into Dante's Inferno. The alleys of Venice may seem charming by day, but by night they are ill lit, cold, twist and turn in all directions and look extremely dangerous. In fact, they are not dangerous at all, but this is our first night in town, and we are not to know. After some help from locals, we arrive at the first "pub", Osteria Alberto on Calle Malvasia. It's packed to the gills and not a table to be had. We consider out options. We can either stand at the bar here and munch on the evil looking hors d'oevres, or take our chances at the next pub. We follow the instructions, which send us deeper and deeper into a Venice never seen by the average visitor. In fact, it was so desolate that we had not seen a single Japanese tourist for at least ten minutes! After some dead end alleys, and a small square with a bleak looking pizzaria, we eventually arrive at the second pub. It is packed to the gills and not a table to be had. We consider our options. We can either stand at the bar....just a minute...haven't we just been through all this? This whole thing is not coming out as planned. Realizing that Rick Steves probably didn't do his pub crawl on a Friday night in the dead of winter, we decide to give up the attempt, and with tails between our legs, we retrace our steps. The pizzaria is already closed as we pass by the little square, and the first pub is just turning out its patrons. The self-service restaurant is dark, and I'm in trouble! Miryam and Bryan are amused, and rather hungry.
At last we espy a likely looking place, Ristorante Aquila Nera, and we have little option but to enter. It's pricey, but I select a very reasonable fish dish, at $7.50. It's a whole grilled fish, head and all, filleted rather inartistically at the table, and just left as is. Not a potato nor a sprig of parsley! Mum and Bryan intelligently have pasta again. When the bill comes I am astounded that my miserable fish has become caviar and is now $18.00. I query the amount, and it is pointed out that fish is quoted at $7.50 per 100 grams of weight, and that my dinner weighed in at 250 grams! To top it all we are also charged cover and service. The two plates of spaghetti and the denizen from the smelly canal, came out to $ 53.00, by far our most expensive outing yet. Guess how much the waiter made as a tip?
After dinner, we don't give up, and continue on our walk. We arrive at the Piazza San Marco. It is now 10:30 pm , very cold, and the great square is almost abandoned. In the summer, the square would be humming with activity at this time, with the sidewalk cafes full of light and music. Now we had the square to ourselves, and the famous pigeons were huddled in heaps around lamp posts and waste paper baskets. We did a quick circuit admiring the surrounding buildings, the Doge's Palace and St. Mark's Cathedral. We also see several of the well known San Marco hotels, such as the Danielli, Luna Baglione, Monaco and Grand Canal . They look very plush and expensive. None the less, we are quite happy with our accommodations, and as we will spend so little time in them, the price is right. The multitude of narrow alleys and passages in Venice is extremely confusing. Street names seem to change on every block, the numeration is only logical to Venetians and the constant twists and turns upset your sense of direction. Fortunately Venice is an island, so you can't get too lost, and there being no high crime area on the island, there is little danger, other than falling into a canal. The locals are kind and hospitable, always attempting to direct us as best they could.
Returning from St. Mark's Square, we pass over a narrow canal and see the lights of our hotel, yet we still get lost again! Finally we encounter our abode, and enter the warmth. It's almost midnight .
