8/9/05
Thursday
A 12-hour journey with a three hour stop-over plus another two hour flight in addition to an hour long waterbus ride begins with a single step, as the saying goes.
Flew KLM. The counter staff seemed helpful and friendly. Once aboard, we noticed the unusual division of the regular 3-4-3 structure (it was a Boeing 747-300). This one was a 3-2- a wall- and perhaps 2-3 on the other side, which we didn’t get to see, on account of it being a night flight and us being sleepy.
But whatever stage of uncomfortable slumber we were in, we were rudely awakened by the assault on our olfactory system in the form of supper or dinner. NEVER ASK FOR ASIAN VEGETARIAN. Actually we had requested Indian vegetarian but they always give Asian variety. It’s horrible, am sure seat covers provided a better source of protein and minerals than the stuff that was dished out. Thankfully, mine went missing. Makes you wonder what kind of starving maniac would have done that. Either he or she was too hungry or had had taste-buds removed, owing to too much airline food. Or maybe someone who had had too many Asian vegetarian and couldn’t suffer another one was going about destroying it quietly, sitting inside the trolley. Whatever the case, I got a vegetarian meal from the business class. Wasn’t quite as bad. Curiously, even that was in a paper tray. Breakfast was bearable.
A 3-hour stop-over at Amsterdam. Familiar electronic woman-voice going ‘Mind your step’ at the end of walkalators. PA system routinely telling passengers who are late that they are delaying the flight and threatened to off-load their luggage. The 3 hours got extended to half hour more after boarding. Technical difficulty and heavy air traffic at Schipol.
9/9/05
Friday
Reached Venice, Marco Polo Airport sometime in the morning. The bags were wet from the rain. Picked up baggage, located the Ali Laguna booth, bought a waterbus ticket to Arsenale vaporetti stop for 10 euros each. Perish the thought about private taxis, they apparently are very expensive, about 85 euros.
We went out of the airport, turned right and found the stop for the free shuttle as the girl at the counter said we would. In 10 minutes the shuttle came and took us to the waterbus station, just in time for the Venetian skies to open up and pelt down furiously. After waiting an hour on the platform that was getting more and more unsteady from the sea that was getting increasingly choppy, we took the red line (the other is blue line) to Arsenale. By then the rain reduced to a trickle and stopped completely when we got off at our stop.
Walked right (a helpful suggestion from someone who had stayed at the B&B before), climbed up and down a flight of steps and we were at La Perla Di Venezia. It’s in between two doors, next to Il Pinguino geletaria. No big name boards, there’s a name card stuck next to the bell panel. We pressed that and the door opened (We’ had stumbled on to this B&B on the Net and it was highly recommended by everyone who had stayed here).
Mario, the care-taker, greeted us warmly and showed us how to use the three keys to get in for the next seven nights, and declared immediately we won’t get any breakfast tomorrow if we don’t start speaking Italian by then.
The suite was nice and cosy with a sizeable bathroom and a shower stall that was a bit too small. It had a vertical ‘Jacuzzi’ though.
The first thing that strikes you about Venice besides its beauty is the lack of pollution from automobile exhaust. No blaring horns, no unruly drivers, no rash driving, no traffic jam. There’s a very simple explanation for this. There are no automobiles in Venice because there are no roads in Venice. You only have waterbuses and walkways with countless bridges for people to wheeze up and puff down. Which teaches you a very valuable lesson: never bring more than necessary when coming here. Always pack light. Always. Lugging your heavy suitcase up and down these bridges is not funny (since when is hard work funny anyway?) neither is dragging it in and out of the waterbuses. Don’t say you’ve not been warned.
Mario recommended a couple of restaurants and gave us a map and circled a couple of places like San Marco and Rialto bridge. (He took an immediate liking to Apu.)
Strolled out to a beautiful Venetian evening. To the left was via Garibaldi, a fairly wide avenue with houses featuring varied facades of stunning bright colours on either side. Almost all of them have a potted plant on their wrought iron-grilled balcony. Among them were local grocers and restaurants. There were benches placed back to back along the middle of the road, with children doing somersaults, chasing dogs, families meeting each other on their evening stroll. Lovely.
After waiting for the Osteria Garanghelo to open at 6 from 5.50, we sat outside. I had a spritz, a local aperitif that’s a concoction of white wine, soda and aperole which is also a local liqueur. The other bitter version is made with Campari instead of Aperol.
Apu ordered a half a carafe of red. Just then I saw Mario standing behind her, signaling me to be quiet. Instead of going ‘Boo’, he said a mild ‘ Ciao’, which startled her anyway. He spoke to Marco, one of the waiters and a minute later, he brought us two glasses of good red wine, courtesy Mario.
He joined us at our insistence for a ‘piccolo’, doctor’s orders till his ankle became all right, he informed us. Just when we were wondering how kind this stranger was, he ducked into a nearby store and came out with a present for Apu. Turned out to be a teddy bear key chain. Now we understood why the previous guests at his place were raving so much about him being the best host.
Had a lovely dinner, walked back, had an ice cream, and returned to hotel. The B&B is about a few feet from the sea and offers a beautiful of the wide blue expanse. A huge cruise liner passed by the window.
10/9/05
Saturday
Awoke fresh, had time for kriya and meditation. Had breakfast, with the ‘learn Italian’ deadline being pushed to tomorrow. It was a simple sweet croissant (with the most delicious butter ever) and cappuccino (or whatever you prefer) fare. We noticed an even bigger ship than the one we saw yesterday pass by, making us wonder just how deep the water 10 feet away was.
Headed down to San Marco, which was about a 5-minute walk. Unbelievable, not just the place, but the number of camera toting fellow gawkers gathered there. We were sure it has more tourists per square inch than any other place we’ve been to so far. Locals must be going insane dealing with the crowds thronging their city on their way to work. With over 7 million visitors every year, they must be outnumbered 100 to 1 on any given day, except perhaps in winter, when it is likely to be 100 to 20 is my guess.
Doge’s palace was on the side, gave it a miss. Didn’t want to do Patel points this time. Walked on to Rialto bridge, at one point this was the only connection between Venice and the rest of the islands, it seems. More tourists taking pictures. We did too, seeing as we were not locals. Yet. With its numerous calles, fondamentas and gulleys, Venice is designed to ensure you get lost. In fact that’s what the guidebook recommends. Get a good map and get lost. Don’t worry, Venice is a safe city. The very calles and gulleys make it hard for thieves to make a quick getaway it seems. Besides, helpful signs are plentiful and no matter where you are, you can follow the signs and reach San Marco or Rialto. And with thousands of tourists milling about at all times, well, there’s safety in numbers, especially when there’s 7 million involved, one would imagine.
Another curious feature of the city is the wailing children. Kids just don’t seem to like the place. We saw more cranky, crying kids here than anywhere else.
Went on to the tourist office which was located near Piazza le Roma. We actually crossed a road busy with traffic and other modern annoyances. Picked up a guidebook and a map for 2 euros. Quite friendly staff. You can buy bus tickets and waterbus tickets and concert tickets here if you want to.
Had two slices of tasty pizzas at Café 2000, a small pizzeria. Stopped for a cappuccino at café del doge. Nice.
Went to a TimeOut place for dinner. Very disappointing. Normally Time Out is good but, well, no one is perfect. Alla Rivetta was the name of the place. Sat next to an American couple from Jersey who’ve never been to SF. He was complaining how people are always rude to him. The service was very brusque and rushed, the food was just ok. Left one euro tip out of courtesy.
11/9/05
Sunday
Got up a bit late, and after the usual breakfast, went to Dorsudoro siestre. Venice is divided into six sections or siestres. Just followed the road signs, past San Marco, past Ponte alla Academia and we were there. There was an English speaking local girl in 18th century costume with a colleague selling tickets to Vivaldi’s Quattro Stagioni opera where the actors will be in baroque costume. (I thought it was a pizza combination till I realized it was the four stages or four seasons.) Vivaldi was a son of the soil, or water as the case maybe.
Almost bought tickets but said we’d come back if we changed our mind. Good move, in hindsight, as we were too tired when we came back. On our way to another TimeOut place in Campo Margherita, stumbled onto a place that sold water cheap, which turned out to be the place for ice creams in Venice, called gelataria lo squaro. Absolutely delicious stuff with good, generous scoops.
[Here’s a tip. It’s something we’ve learned over our few trips to Europe. As a rule, places where you can find water cheap, say one euro for a litre or a litre and a half, is usually a safer bet to buy other stuff. If it’s double or more expensive, then you know you’ve arrived smack in the centre of a tourist attraction. It worked in Spain, in other parts of Italy, and now here.]
Went to Campo Margherita, sat in the square with the locals, sipped Spritz after Spritz (tried the campari version too, it was bitter as expected) and watched people while away their Sundays reading newspaper, playing with dogs, assuaging wailing kids (not just restricted tourists, this phenomenon).
Since they served an all meat menu, that too only sandwiches, we asked the waitress for a place to eat. She recommended a place next door. We shifted two feet, and had two large and lovely pizzas to reward our hard work. Picked up a phrasebook on the way back, didn’t turn out to be a very useful one though. Skipped dinner, as the pizza was still being digested despite the 2-hour walk back.
12/9/05
Monday
Started the day the way the locals apparently do, with a grappa. Seems it keeps the chill off. Apu had a Cinzano, finding grappa too strong (40% alcohol). Took the first local boat ride to Murano island, famous for its glass. It lies about 40 minutes from Venice, the ticket is 3.50 euros one way. It’s a small island filled mostly with shops selling glassware and of course factories that make glass. Visited one such, which was right opposite the ferry stop where we got off, for a glass blowing demo. Very interesting. Amazing what a blob of silica can become in the right pairs of hands. Left a 2 euro tip in the glass bowl placed for just that purpose. Bought a few glass trinkets for home.
An ok lunch at a TimeOut place. Returned to mainland, and back to Dorsudoro, and back to geletaria lo squero, had a fantastic pistachio ice cream. Went looking for an elusive terracotta pendant. Apu insisted to the shop owner that she saw it in the window a day before. The guy, knowing what he keeps in his shop, said it was impossible. But her insistence planted a seed of doubt in his mind which he cleared the only way a married man would: he called his wife who assured him he wasn’t lax and that he knew what he was selling and that they didn’t have the said pendant.
Despair led to a delicious chocolate mousse at a place called Gobetti. It was too early for dinner so we chilled off with a couple of Spritzes at an outdoor place round the corner from our dinner place. Sought out the waiter who served us and gave him a euro for his efforts (as his shift was over and had disappeared by the time I could fish out the change), ‘You are very kind sir’, he said. Probably a student, and like Grodin character says to Nero character in Midnight Run, these people depend on tips.
Had dinner at Al Bacareto , I had filing plate of delicious risotto. Chatted with a lone guy next table who said he was from SFO. It seems he was on a biking holiday, had gone to Vienna and cycled to Venice.
PS: The crowd had thinned a bit today, probably the weekend visitors left.
13/9/05
Tuesday
Sticking to coffee and denying Marios grappa, took vaperetto 42 to Ferrovia, bought tickets at 2.50 euros each, also booked our Florence tickets on the ticket machine. Took the 11.30 train (which looked a bit too comfortable for a 2.50 euro ride but the return train wasn’t, so it evened out. Which is not to say the return train wasn’t comfortable, it just wasn’t air-conditioned) to Padua (or Padova as the locals call it), which happens to be home to Italy’s second oldest university. After a half hour ride, reached the place which had traffic, automobiles and other contrasts with Venice. Walked about, and reached a couple of campos/squares soon. Even went to the university. Had lunch at PePin, the food was excellent, the service wasn’t.
A very disappointing place. For a university town it has no charm like Stanford or Berkeley. Wishing we had given it a miss instead wasting almost 3/4 of a day, we went back by 4. Sitting on the steps of the Santa Lucia station, we decided to go back to hotel via Canneregio, another sestieri. It was refreshingly bustling, lively and nice. An enjoyable contrast to the dry Padua. Made a mental note of all the places we wanted to visit tomorrow. The locals shop here which means you don’t pay the price for being a tourist. Bought a 1.5L water for 85 cents!
Went back to Garanghelo for dinner. A tourist was photographing an elderly lady standing in her balcony and talking to her friends on the street below. She seemed paparazzi-friendly, so to speak, perhaps the most photographed aunty. We found the whole spectacle warm and nice, people from balconies talking to each other, and to those on the street, families greeting each other as they went about their evening walks, but Manuela, the waitress, said all is nice when you’re on holiday. She is from Napoli, and when the other waiter said something about Naples, I sprang to her defence saying they had Maradona, which led her to give me a hug, Neapolitans and Diego are inseparable.
14/9/005
Wednesday
Woke up late, had breakfast late. The rest of the six suites seemed occupied.
Wove our way through the usual throng of tourists at San Marco, taking the same route we did on our first day, this time more confident and in search of the pendant. A different turn to the right brought us to the wet market and the meat market. Another curious thing about Venetians is their cuisine, which includes as an unusual specialty: horse. Talk about horsedoeuvres.
Walked on to Rialto and on the way, bought big Spanish olives from a local grocer who was selling meat and cheese. A few minutes further we found the elusive pendant sitting in the window of a shop run by Ferretti sisters. It had a lot of interesting stuff, they design and make most of it. That goes for almost all the shops here, the owners either design or make what they sell. Stopped for a Spritz before that where a tourist couple asked us for directions to P. le Roma, mistaking us for locals (actually they asked for Roma).
Walked further on and went into the San Giovanni church (we’d taken a photo outside on the first day). Very peaceful place, never seen a quieter church. Saw paintings of a Serbian painter called Zec, who lived in the Tuscan region and Venice, beautiful stuff. Donated 2 euros, and bought a painting, and the girl sitting and “woman-ing” the place didn’t have anything to wrap it with.
Crossed over to Cannaregio side. Some of the shops were closed for siesta. So whiled away our time looking at the crowd filing past us, sitting on the steps of the campo which had a church, and having gelato. A couple of Africans sitting on the far side of the steps were selling fake branded bags. The moment they saw their nemesis in uniform they’d scram, folding their wares.
The getaway, we noticed, was quick and clean. They first spread a sheet on the ground, put all their bags on it, and when they see police, the just bring the edges of the cloth together, which becomes a sack, and vamoose. Reminded us a lot of Del-boy from Only Fools and Horses, who posts Rodney to look out for “Old Bill”, which he never does.
The government has devised quite an effective way to stop the fake market by shifting the responsibility entirely onto the consumers. There are signs everywhere about ‘bad bags” and how much you will be fined if you are caught with one. Naturally, you’d think more than twice before buying a fake.
Went to a restaurant called Cavatappi near San Marco area after visiting a store that sold Campers and a new interesting brand called Kowalski. The first two glasses of Cabernet were tolerable but the subsequent ones were just vinegar. Left the second one unfinished, bought a couple of Hello Venezia bags from an elderly person selling it opposite the bar for 7 euros. Walked to another TimeOut restaurant in another part of town for dinner. Antica Trattoria Bandierette, very nice food. Wine was so-so. Next to it was a shop selling pizzas ranging from personal size to cycle-tyre size. Bought some mozzarella balls and fried olives but couldn’t finish them. Walked through a couple of unfamiliar alleys, and decided to retrace the steps and follow the familiar path back, but not before filling the bottle at a fountain.
San Marco was lively at 9 pm, with well, live bands playing outside restaurants. They take turns, when one band finishes his piece, the guys at the next restaurant pick up, thus avoiding cacophony.
Mario’s friendly gun at the head meant grappa down the throat. We saw where he lived, just next door to us. Chatted with another guest a while before hitting bed.
The water heater hasn’t been working for the last two days. So every day had to tell Mario first thing in the morning, then he’d curse under his breath, ask the tap be ‘averto’ meaning keep it open, then it would be ok after a while. He had to climb up a ladder in his room to the attic where the controls were, this would have been a cinch but for his strained ankle.
15/9/05
Thursday
Pretty easy day. Started out by 10.30. Went to Santa Maria Miracula. When we reached there we discovered it was the other side of the church we were at yesterday evening. Well, you explore and learn. Didn’t go in all the way, just stood at the entrance and admired from a distance. Once you’ve been to the Sistine Chapel, everything else pales. Had a Spritz at the café outside. Picked up a small up from the fried mozzarella ball seller we saw yesterday. Decent stuff.
Walked back, taking the route we didn’t want to last night owing to unfamiliarity. Reached San Marco side, closer to our hotel. Thought might as well go and rest a while since we were almost there. Found the maids cleaning the rooms. Waited in the lobby. Went in after 10 minutes, learnt from the maid who spoke decent English that Mario doesn’t own the place but looks after it. Rested for a couple of hours, went to via Garibaldi, bought a few things like risotto etc from a local shop, the guy told us we could buy Aperol 150 yards up from a shop on the left, which we did. Also bought a bottle of red for Mario.
Walked through a park, emerged on the sea front, walked back to say hello Manuela as she had asked us to come and say goodbye before leaving. Had a Spritz, asked about Manuela, to which the waiter said she was always late and how Napoli people are always talking. This north south divide is everywhere. On the second Spritz, Manuela came asking how could we leave this beautiful stretch. Immediately picked up a fight with Marco. He started it though. No one is happy at work.
Mario had suggested another place called Carpacio for dinner, but we decided to abandon that in favour of dining at the place where we had our first dinner in Venice. A couple of Spritzes and a half carafe of red can do strange things to you.
It can also put you in touch with very interesting people. It was the colour of our Spritz that started a conversation with the people, an elderly, distinguished looking gentleman and a youngish lady, next table. Theirs was darker. So we told them the difference campari and aperol respectively make to Spritz. It seems they met in India, which is interesting because they both hail from Fatherland (he looked more like Da Vinci with his beard and mustache). When he asked me where in India we were from, I said I was from the south and apu was from Mumbai, working on the assumption that most people have no clue about the south. Not this one. He asked which part of south, I said you may not have heard but it’s Coimbatore. He said of course he knew the place and that he spent a day there on the way to the Nilgiris. Turns out he spent a year in India, been to Thiruvannamali, Madurai (took part in the Kallalagar festival), Hampi and the works. He wishes to organize a foundation for artists from Germany and India, in India. He left us with his email id and rushed off to catch a play or something.
Went back to hotel, after finishing the half carafe red and not getting the pasta we asked for, which was just as well as we were too full on the mixed grilled fish. Tipped Manuela 2 euros for just being nice. Gave the bottle to Mario who wasn’t looking too cheerful on account of his aching ankle (Venice is just not the place for these kind of ailments) and being forced to give his room up to a guest. He said he’d have the wine once his foot healed and gave me a grappa which I couldn’t finish.
16/9/05
Friday
Breakfast. Photo with Mario. Left. Took the waterbus to Ferrovia, hung around for an hour or so. Bought 2 focacia sandwiches from the station cafeteria for the journey. [NOTE: The platform number for trains are rarely displayed 10 minutes before the train arrives, so there is always a mad rush to get in especially for infrequent trains, such as the ones to Venice from Florence, as we would find out later.] But we still had time to take a photo in front of the train, always wanted one like that.
When we were about to get in, a ticket collector type guy told us the train needs be cleaned so we can’t get in, but we saw others boarding and went to the far side to board and the same guy was coming down that way too telling us to board later. We told him others are boarding and just got in, leaving him mumbling. Turned out the seats were one after the other and not facing each other as was displayed on the ticket machine when we booked. “That’s Italy,” said the couple next to us who had the same problem. Don’t know where they are from. Finished the sandwich. Reached Florence 10 minutes late.
Florence – Again. Santa Maria Novella. Again. Duomo. Again. Feels like a sequel. And almost thought it would be a disappointing one, as the taxi driver who took us to Martin Dago and the first couple of shopkeepers were uncharacteristically not warm. But things got better with time.
Gabriel at the B&B welcomed us with a big smile, said paper work can wait. (I tell my guests not to pay if they are not happy, he said. Not sure how far that was true, but we wanted to pay if that was the case.) We stayed at Reuben, a nice room with a spiral staircase that takes you to your sleeping quarters, so to speak. Down is a small room with the toilet, a TV that stands on a cabinet that houses the mini fridge. There’s a window that looks out onto some sort of garden.
Didn’t waste too much time at the hotel, went out to see if the rest of the city was the same since we left it last year. Almost. The fountain at Santa Croce piazza where I used to fill water was dry. We saw a couple of restaurants we went to there have extended into the open area across the road next to the church. Had an espresso at Café Rivoir, couldn’t find the pizzeria run by the elderly couple or McRae bookshop. Dinner at Il Francesca, different waitress, same delicious food, and good, inexpensive wine. Walked back to hotel.
17/9/05
Saturday
Met an Aussie couple at breakfast (which was croissant, some pie Gabriel had made, coffee and juice). On learning we were in advertising, the guy said his whole family, generations after generations, were in advertising. Told us his family story in the half hour we spent. Nice people.
Went to the bus stop, took a SITA bus to San Gimignano, you change bus at Poggibonsi, cross over to the other side and wait for the bus going the other way, ask the driver just in case, and hop on. We got the connecting bus in about 10 minutes. The whole journey takes about 45 minutes, if I remember right. You travel on the same ticket though and don’t have to validate it again at Poggibonsi.
San Gimignano is a beautiful little town. You can see its towers, numbering 12 (used to be more), as you near the town. Took a walk around the cobbled-stoned city which doesn’t very long to cover, so in about half an hour of buying pasta condiments, pasta measuring tools (it’s a wooden spatula type thing with holes that say how many persons it’s for, so you stick that much spaghetti through that hole), sauce etc, you are ready for the world’s best ice-cream at geletaria di plazzi in the main square piazza della Cisterna. Excellent stuff. They have photographs of various celebrities enjoying their ice cream. It was way better than Vivoli both in terms of portion and price. It was just 1.50 euro, before that had some pizza at an empty pizzeria, good stuff.
Got to the bus stop 40 minutes early, By the time we made an acquaintance with a woman biker from SF, and learnt that she was a medical rep, married, separated, etc., a full blown crowd had gathered at the small bus stop, and it had started to pour. Something about us and Siena trips. It had rained the last year we went to Siena too. The bus dropped us at Poggibonsi, curiously we were asked to cross over to take the bus back to Florence. The same place we had taken the bus to San Gimignano from. The rain didn’t let up. After an hour, a Florence bound bus came on the other, logically correct side of the road, and we made a dash for it, got in just in time to see another Florence bound arrive at the stop we had just vacated, empty. Anyway, we continued, turned out the bus took a longer way around, reaching Florence 90 minutes later. Rain builds pressure on the bladder, luckily the train station (close to the bus stop) has very clean toilets that let you use them for 70 cents I think. Don’t fret if you don’t have change, there’s a machine changes your euros.
Walked back to the hotel, bought water for 45 cents (1.5L) at a super mercati which was just 3minutes from our place. (They don’t put the stuff in a bag for you, you have to do it yourself.) We went to a restaurant next door to the hotel called Cibero (TimeOut). Tables were few and guests were not, so we had to squeeze and share table with a Japanese couple with whom we struck a conversation later. One of those fancy, Anthony Bourdain type places where the dishes are decorated, look small and beautiful, and occupy about 10 cms of a huge plate. But belying their size, the food we ordered filled us up. Had a very different papa pomodoro, it was almost like a paste. Waiting for the second course, talked to the Japanese couple, he was taking photographs of the dishes with a small, flashlight/power drill looking camera, made by Sanyo. Told him to watch Kurasawa movies as he hadn’t watched many. He said he was an air-com maintenance guy. When I mentioned Muthu, he immediately recognized the name, and started doing a little dance jig. Small world indeed. Talking about Rajnikant to a Japanese couple in Florence.
18/9/05
Sunday
Met a couple, both were guys, from Mexico, at breakfast, usual conversation. Went out, was drizzling, decided against going out of the city. Walked to piazzale Michelangelo on the other side of the Arno river. After a good hour’s (maybe more) walk, reached the the top of a small hill, where Michelangelo apparently a palace but never lived there. A copy of David looks out onto the town below. He couldn’t appreciate the view which was fantastic. Took an ATAF bus #13 back, at 1.50 euro each.
Walked back from the bus stop through parts of the city we didn’t visit on our last trip. There was a bustling marketplace where you could get jackets, shawls, watches and tee shirts. Bought a drape-type shawl there and a T-shirt round the corner at San Lorenzo square. Had lunch at a decent place near Piazza Republica, opposite the cinemas. Lido as a name for cinema halls seems to a favourite everywhere in the world. On the way back, found McRae and the pizzeria run by the elderly couple which was closed today on via de Neri. Bought another little big cookbook at McRae, returned to hotel, rested and went out by 7 for a nice dinner at Baldavino. Sat at the table behind the one we sat the last time we came here in 2004.
In most of these restaurants, as we would discover again and again, there is only one or two waiting staff who take care of guests, and even if the service charge is inclusive in the bill, they never frown, scowl or show impatience. The service is almost always warm and friendly.
19/9/05
Monday
Went to Greve, Chianti. A 40-minute bus ride takes you to Greve, the first stop in Chianti, there are a couple of other stops you can alight at if you are interested. Reminds you of any hill station back home, only these regions grow olives and grapes.
Got off, went looking for nothing in particular, found a closed information centre across the road and restrooms that weren’t. The coin-operated machine wasn’t working, so people were saving 50 cents, the manifolds of which they spent on wines. Crossed over to the main piazza with the customary man on horse statue. Picked up a recipe book, and had lunch at a nice place next door. Ambled further and into a wine cellar. In case you are not sure what is a good year for a particular wine, just look at their recommendation, which is stuck on the shelves. They are rated by star system, so it’s easy to pick. We picked up a case of 4 bottles. While we were browsing shelves and compartments that had wines from as early as 1960, we heard a noise that one shouldn’t in a cellar: that of a bottle breaking. A kid ran out, maybe it was his fault maybe it wasn’t as his mother was trying to explain, but the shopkeeper seemed not very worried. Probably the wine didn’t hail from a good year. He didn’t speak English much, so when we asked about a ’69 wine which was at a jaw-dropping 30 euros, he said, ’no guarantee’. The shop has some really old wines for reasonable euros.
Caught an empty bus back to Firenze. It’s a probably a European thing but it is really nice to see everyone greet everyone else. Whether you’re boarding a bus or entering a shop, you say Bon Giorno or Buena sera depending on the time of day, and Ciao, Grazie when you alight or leave. In India, it gets taken for granted, though we have other ways of greeting, a smile a gesture…
Had dinner at Osteria de Benci. Lovely food. While waiting for the restaurant to open we walked into a shop next door, run by an elderly lady. Bought a ‘good-luck’ grains basket, the story of which goes back to the days when the farmers saw a revival in their produce or something like that. Tried to by an old fashioned set of writing instruments, which has a nib, attached to a wooden stick, a bottle of ink and a set of nibs of varying widths. I couldn’t make her understand what happens when the ink gets over and if I could use any other ink.
When we came out de Benci was still not open for food, so we sat and had ‘uno carafe rosso’ and in about ten minutes we were shown a table on the restaurant’s side. Interestingly, some of these restaurants have a commendable policy of not making you walk away even if what you want is not there. For instance, restaurants have a bar/café that doesn’t close when when the restaurant does, thus ensuring the patrons remain on the premises till the food is served, at the same time getting them to spend on wine or snacks.
20/9/05
Tuesday
Up early, had time for kriya and meditation. Took a slow train to Lucca. The slow train was like our ‘passenger’ trains back home, stopping every time some one waved to the driver, and reached Lucca after an hour and forty minutes.
Found our way into the town which was pretty and small. In 15-20 minutes we had covered more than half the place, while directing a pair of tourist ladies to the amphitheatre, thinking how could get anyone get lost here. There was a horse carriage carrying a couple around the city with the driver pointing at various places saying, ‘ 15th century’ etc.,
After finding our TimeOut place closed, we took a chance at a place (La Triestina) near the amphitheatre that was almost closing down and found the food and the service very warm and nice. I ordered pasta maccherencino al pomedoro e basil. I was expecting macheroni but was pleasantly surprised to find pasta sheets cut at different lengths. Apparently that’s what maccherencino is: pasta sheets cut at random lengths. Apu had pizza siciliana, again very nice. Lot of students were hanging about, no mystery there as Lucca is a university town.
Took a walk around on ramparts surrounding the town. Beautiful. At some point, some soldiers must have demanded, ‘Halt, who goes there?’ Walked back to the station, took longer to find our way though. Made it just in time for the 5 pm train, which was five minutes late. After assuring other passengers that it was indeed going to Firenze, got in. This one was a plush type, air-conditioned with decent seats like the one we took to Padova. But it was just as slow, reaching Florence at 6.20.
Had dinner at Osteria de Macci, recommended by Gabriel. The restaurant was on the same street as MartinDago. Excellent food and wine. Again just two people serving with not a frown or sign of irritation.
21/9/05
Wednesday
Did some last minute shopping. Finally, had lunch at the pizzeria we had visited last year on via de neri. Came back, rested, asked Gabriel where we could buy some ham to take back for some friends in Singapore. He said to go to Grana market, a store run by his friend (he has friends everywhere in the city), that sells meat, cheese, sauces and pasta etc., on via tavolina off calizuoli. When we informed the store guy we were from Gabriel, the man beamed a smile and a lady stepped out from behind the counter to help us. Had been to Jaipur, she said, when she was really small, as part of work. She found it beautiful. Bought some proscuito, cheese. In the evening, went to il ritrova, a restaurant recommended by Gabriel, of course he had a friend there, who was a lady, a model, who had posed for a sculpture which is in Rome now. Lovely service, lovely food. And again, just two people serving the increasing crowd. (It’s on via de pucci, look carefully as it’s easily missable, you have to climb down a few steps to enter the restaurant). She didn’t speak English but made up for it with great service. On the way out, said ‘buon compliano’ which means happy birthday to a lady celebrating her birthday.
Went back, finished paperwork, paid up, and asked Gabriel to show us the secret balcony the Aussie couple had mentioned. It was on the terrace, overlooking the city. There was a fridge on the landing, which Gabriel stocks with beer etc at no cost. If you feel like returning the favour, stock it up.
22/9/05
Thursday
Got up early, just had enough time to grab a nibble of the pie Gabriel had baked and say good-bye. The cab he had booked last night was downstairs. He helped us with the luggage, which had become a bit heavier with the 20-odd brochures of MartinDago which he had just received the previous day. ‘Give it to your friends in Singapore,’ he said.
Reached Santa Maria Novella early, bought a sandwich for the journey. Like mentioned elsewhere, the platform number of the train is given only about 10 minutes before it arrives. We didn’t feel it the last time we were in Italy probably because the trains to our destinations were more frequent than to the current one, namely, Venice.
So there was a mad rush when the train came, with people running all over the place. After a fair amount of pushing and shoving, got to our seats, which was facing each other this time.
Reached Santa Lucia, found out we had to cross the road and take a right to reach the bus station at Piazzale Roma, from where we can take a free shuttle service to Marco Polo airport. 5 minutes, the girl at the tourist information counter said. For superman maybe, for ordinary folk like us (even with light luggage), it took us about 10-15 minutes. Remember the bridges? Well, there were two of them to climb up and down before we reached the ACTV bus stop (there was a big woman offering to help with luggage for a price of course, which we declined). ACTV operates free bus service to the airport, which leaves every half hour. Bus no.5 leaves from stand (or bay, if you prefer) no.1A. No trouble finding the platform (or bay, if you prefer), the bus came almost immediately. After checking with the driver it was free, got in. Checked with another guy who asked us if it was going to the airport that it was free.
Reached Marco Polo in less than half an hour, well in advance. Had a bite at the café (very nice yoghurt), had our cloth bag wrapped in the plastic for 7 euros. They insure it against theft, damage etc.,
The flight was delayed by 30 plus minutes. Staff were friendly. Was talking to her about living in Venice with all the tourists. She said when the water level rose during her school days, they used to walk, as waterbuses wouldn’t operate.
Reached Amsterdam with enough time to catch our connecting flight. When we were almost boarding we were informed of a technical fault that would delay us by an hour. Luckily we had had something to eat. We were given free bottles of water. We saw a white guy (Caucasian is limiting in scope, he sounded like he was from place in England could have been from anywhere in Europe), stashing enough of these free bottles of water to last a month on the Sahara. He had at least 15, 20 bottles. These kinds of people are everywhere. In Singapore it is called the ‘kiasu’ mentality. Evidently, it transcends borders and class. You would think someone with enough money to afford a plane ticket and “culture”, from a “developed” country, would have more sense. But no.
The flight was delayed by another hour. This time we were given a voucher worth 5 euros, which we used to buy a cognac, a glass of red wine and something to eat. Was talking to an Australian guy who was trying to take photos of the stationary plane for his son. Finally, boarded the plane, after a two-hour wait, at midnight. The food was refreshingly tasty. Pasta! Reminding ourselves never to ask for Asian vegetarian, settled down for the long journey back to Singapore.
23/9/05
Friday
Reached home.
