Such as the Fiat Cinquecento or 500.
Spotted this little beauty on the streets of Florence yesterday and could not resist a picture. I like to think there are two classics in the picture.
Italy in my life
Was it worth the wait?
When I was a very young art historian in training, I fell head over heels in love with Italy. I’ve been pulled to Italy by some big magnet within my being pretty much my whole life. That magnetic pull is not something anyone can see, but everyone who knows me knows I feel.
And one of the objects of my desire has been the experience of walking through the so called Vasari Corridor that begins on an upper level of the Uffizi Gallery, snakes over the Ponte Vecchio, and travels all the way to the Palazzo Pitti on the other side of the Arno.
And while I have known for decades that the Corridor exists and is filled with treasure, and that only the elite and their entourages could access this long above-ground long, long hallway, I was not sure I would ever have the opportunity to view it myself. I might have had a chance in the early days of my career, when I was a Fellow at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for then I had a hand signed letter from the Met’s director, Phillipe de Montebello, which worked pretty much like “open seasame” all around the world back then.
The letter invited anyone I presented it to allow me access for whatever I was asking for in the world of art. Coming from arguably the most important person in the art world at the time, the French director of New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, that letter had weight, figuratively as well as literally. I saw how people reacted to it. The letter was on thick, hand-made, old world letterstock, with the Met’s letterhead engraved upon it, and a gold seal affixed to it. That letter allowed me to climb the scaffolding erected for the conservators to clean the Sistine Chapel ceiling. That is how I can to be 5 inches away from Michelangelo’s “Drunkenness of Noah” panel, an experience I will never forget.
But as I was preparing for this winter, my winter in Italy that I have dreamed of almost all of my life, I discovered that the Vasari Corridor is now more or less open and that one can make a reservation in advance online and then visit. I have one of those tickets, and I am going there tomorrow, on my birthday. Happy Birthday to me!
I’ll let you know if it was worth the wait!
C’est moi, or, sono io
What a lucky, lucky ragazza reflected in the window! She gets to spend her birthday in Florence! Woo hoo! She surely doesn’t feel as old as her birth date indicates! She feels more like the age indicated by her shoe size.
Lemon tree, very pretty
“Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
But the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.”
I honestly didn’t even know I knew these lyrics.***
But, I am a boomer and I inhaled these lyrics while snacking on potato chips, sipping Coca Cola, sitting at our gray formica and chrome table, in our kitchen with the pink refrigerator, wearing my cut-off shorts, and my white Ked “tennis shoes” even though I had yet to play tennis! I had a pixie haircut, was tall for my age and what people referred to as “skinny.” What I wouldn’t give to be skinny again!
Oh, and I had tanned skin. I am very fair with light eyes and I had to burn the top layer of my skin off in order to tan. With baby oil and iodine and/or “suntan lotion” that made me burn faster, allegedly. I am paying for the tanned skin now.
Did you know that Coco Chanel popularized tanning in the 1920s? Up until then, only the poor were tanned because they had no choice but to work outdoors. But, I digress.
And the memories, such as this memory about lemon tree lyrics, show up unannounced. It’s kinda crazy.
So, back to the present.
Today, I followed a path into this secret garden.
How can you not go through this arch when given the chance?
And what a reward!
Potted lemon trees bearing lemons.
Oh, and p.s., there was a potted orange tree too. But I don’t know any lyrics or poems about orange trees.
Or, do I?
No, I don’t. What a relief.
And a potted camellia tree/shrub, which wasn’t doing so well, and made me miss Seattle where camellias are blooming beautifully right now.
The light pink camellia blossoms don’t show well in this photo, but they were really not doing well.
Oh, and another p.s., this isn’t really a secret garden. It is the entryway for the Leather School of Santa Croce. Anyone who has stamina to walk a long way to enter the leather school can see the potted plants and more!
***Will Holt wrote Lemon Tree in the 1950s, basing the tune on a Brazilian folk score arranged by Jose Carlos Burle and made popular by Wilson Simonal. The lyrics compare love to a lemon tree: the tree is pretty, the flower is sweet, but the fruit is impossible to eat. Hmm. Interesting. Thanks to Wikipedia, as usual.
I probably listened to the song on the radio in the late 1950s or 1960s. My dad always had the radio on in his truck and in our house. I might have heard the version recorded by Peter, Paul and Mary, or by The Kingston Trio or any other number of recording artists from the period. In 1965, Trini Lopez’s recorded version of Lemon Tree hit number 20 on the Hot 100 and I probably heard it, and memorized it unknowingly, that year. :-))
If you enjoy my blog (and I really hope that you do!)
then you gotta make a comment in the comment section. Duh?! Where else would you make it?
Some of my friends (and you know who you are) are following my exploits and extravaganzas via this blog, and while that is great, and just what I wanted, etc. etc. etc., a girl needs a little feedback!
You feel closer to me.
But I am left wondering who stopped by.
Leave a calling card, at least!
Grazie mille!
La tua amica,
Lauretta
All of Italy was in Florence today.
Or, at least, that’s how it felt.
Walking along any of the major streets in Florence can be like surfing.
But it is what it is and I know that complaining about the incoming flack of Florence’s turisti is a waste of ink. No doubt it is unfolding just the way it is meant to unfold, but I can’t help feeling nostalgic for the Florence I remember from decades ago.
Back then, no store keeps spoke English. Now, no matter how try I hard to blend in and use my best Italian language skills, the storekeepers intuit immediately that I am American. If I persist and converse in Italian, these kind souls invariably praise my good Italian, which is just one more indication that the Italians are by nature a convivial and kind people because I promise you that my language skills are rudimentary at the very best!
The main reason Florence was chaotic with tourists today is because this is a major holiday weekend in Italy. Tomorrow night, the night of January 5, is Epiphany Eve, an extremely important feast day on the calendario cattolico. Although nowadays the American devotion to Santa Claus has a firm foothold in the winter holidays in Italy, traditionally it is La Befana, an old woman who rides a broom, who delivers gifts to Italian children. Many Italians have tomorrow off from work for the holiday. It’s all about the children as you can see today in the Piazza della Repubblica.
Of all the things I saw and felt on this beautiful day today in Florence, it was the vision of this nonna tying balloons to sell to the holiday makers that most captivated me.
Buona befana, ragazzi! I hope you get just what you wanted!
I honestly believe:
that you would have to try really, really hard…to eat a bad meal in Italy.
To wit: At my wit’s end just before New Year’s Eve, I knew I had to make a run to my local supermercato to buy something for my pantry, just in case. I whipped a few items down from the shelves, up from their cases, in the market and wound up with some fresh fruit, some fresh veg, and these items. Store brand. I’ve found I can trust the Coop store brand in everything.
So, sure enough, on the first day of the new year, I wasn’t feeling so hot. Not from too much partying (although I can’t say the same for the rest of my building: somebody thought the interior courtyard would make the perfect backdrop of a long and loud fireworks display followed by a game of drunken soccer) but from the cold and flu that I was lucky enough to meet up with just before Christmas.
So I heated up some of the creme of asparagus soup, pictured above, and for a brief moment I thought I must have reached Nirvana. This lovely soup got me through several mealtimes in excellent shape (except for the coughing and sneezing and fever part).
And today I was actually feeling hungry, which has to be a good sign on the road to recovery, no? I opened this gorgeous package of fresh tagliatelle pasta made with eggs:
And when it was cooked to absolute perfection in a matter of minutes, I doused it in this creamy truffle sauce made with butter, cream, shaved tartufo mushrooms (which comes ready made in the regular grocery store, not that special here in Italia, I swear to you!), added a little of the pasta cooking water (about 1/4 cup), fresh black pepper and shaved parmigiana Reginana:
And then I meant to take a picture of the pasta with the sauce, but first I had to taste it to see if it tasted as good as it smelled and then, poof, before I knew what had happened, I had inhaled the entire bowl full of some of the best pasta I have ever eaten in my life and that is saying something because I am a pasta eater from way back. Only not always with truffles. But from now on, with truffles because my oh my say hello to heaven in a bowl!
Whew, just writing that and reliving it in the telling, is exhausting to me. And p.s., it turns out that these devilish little store-bought Coop brand cookies are a mighty fine accompaniement to a slice of gelato or even a nice cup of joe or tea.
I may be buying stock in Coop very soon.
What do you do when you have the flu?
When the day is bright and sunny, but you can’t join it because you can’t stop coughing and sneezing and running a slight fever, what do you do?
Well, I cook a pot roast. Perche no? The fragrance alone lifts my spirits.
You have to operate like a girl scout, and always be prepared. When you are at the supermarket and you see the following brilliant item of a prepackaged mix of 4 celery stalks, 2 carrots, 1 onion, parsley springs and cilantro springs (why didn’t grocers in the US think of this??) you toss it in your cart just in case.
And you locate some beef for roasting or a chicken for stewing.
Already you feel better even if you are still coughing and sneezing.
Then, when you walk by the frozen food section and see this:
And you think to yourself, “Flowers of milk” umm, that sounds like a delicious flavor of gelato, so you bring it home. And not only is it delicious, but you find all sorts of inventive ways to use it. For one, you put a hunk in a glass of coca cola (another treat for the season) and enjoy a float like the good old days. And, you discover that a slice of frozen gelato on the top of a crisp, Italian cookie makes a fabulous sandwich.
Scanning the aisles of the supermercato is a fun way for me to spend an hour of any day of the week. I couldn’t resist this seasonal butter, make from a holiday recipe, according to the packaging, which is complete with an image of holly. I haven’t used the butter yet, but I’ll let you know how it is.
And, alas, the panettoni and pandori are now priced at a steep discount. Before Xmas, pandoro was a little over 5 Euro. Now, 1.5 Euro. Sigh. Christmas is over :-((
But you’ll have to excuse me now, because I have to cough and sneeze and wrap myself up in my electric blanket and possibly slice some gelato to fit this cookie I’m holding.
Happy New Year!!
Nothing says Christmas like a wedding dress! Non sequitor alert!
I’m just messing with you! I know people don’t shop for wedding dresses at Christmastime.
Oh, they do?
While rambling down the mean streets of Florence (lots of traffic on foot, bike, Vespa, and cars and dog poop to avoid) I happened upon this pretty shop. I love the grand, rustic nature of the stone building contrasting with the delicate lace and white tulle of the wedding dresses. Sonata in red, white, and stone.
Che bella!
Italians go all out for weddings, just as people do the world over. See my posts from India. Now that’s a party.
Random photos from this week in Florence, no rhyme or reason
In case you didn’t know, I am a push-over for murano blown glass chandeliers. What home is truly a home without one of these in it? Not my home!
Antique shops with Aniya on the Via de Serragli in Oltrarno. Fun days.
School days.
La mia professoressa carina dell’italiano.
And the lessons she tortures us with :-))
And my other darling Italian teacher who drills us with rules!
My funny teacher and my funny classmate.
Lunch time at a local osteria.
An absolutely adorable bambina and her very proud daddy (mommy too, just across the table)!
Street art.
Great week in Firenze!
get back, lauretta! 
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