Florence

Having endured what may have been the longest, most excruciating quarter of school since we were both beginning teachers, Justin and I limped, crawled and hobbled our way to fall break. We had originally planned to spend our week in Lebanon exploring Beirut and Byblos but we decided to cancel after watching the protests grow over the past couple of weeks. Fortunately we found some last minute flights to Rome and found ourselves in Florence for the break. Interesting fact - in Italy, Florence is not even called Florence, it's called Firenze. 

Maybe its nerves or anxiety, but for whatever reason none of us ever seem to sleep well the night before a trip and this time was even worse. The three of us each managed about 3 hours of sleep. Then we had to leave the house at 4:30 in the morning to catch an early flight. This made the perfect recipe for a really rough flight for the little man. Justin and I basically spent the duration of our two flights walking up and down the aisles with Harris and trying to get him to sleep. Finally after sheer exhaustion he fell asleep on my shoulder as I was pacing the back of the plane. And if you’ve ever known the dilemma of deciding whether or not to risk setting down a baby you just got to sleep so that he might be more comfortable and so that you may regain feeling in your arms and neck, you will understand the drama and suspense of the maneuver. Imagine the scene in Indiana Jones “Raiders of the Lost Ark” where Indiana snatches the golden idol and leaves a bag of sand in its place as to not trigger the booby trap. Justin basically got kicked out of his seat so that Harris could sprawl across the row and sleep soundly. 

Rather than dealing with checking into a hotel and out the next morning, we bravely opted to go straight from Rome to Florence via train. While this would add another 3 or so hours to our already arduous day of travel, we reasoned that it would be better to just get all the travel over with and then once we arrived at our apartment in Florence we would be settled. On the 2 ½ hour ride to Florence, Justin and I enjoyed a craft beer from the refreshments car and once again took turns wrangling Harris who, turns out, hates sitting still on trains almost as much as he hates sitting still on planes. Coincidentally, Harris reached a new level of independence and strong headedness at exactly the same time as our trip was scheduled. Neat. Unable to really fully walk on his own, yet also feeling too grown to just sit in a lap like a baby, he alternated climbing up our fronts by using our rib cages as footholds, then attempting to repel backwards with the gusto of a base jumper. Failure to execute his attempted back dive would result in furious wailing and much to our chagrin, even some biting. I was amused to learn that due to Harris’ current dental arrangement, bite marks closely resemble that of a little rat’s. And by the end of the train ride, Justin’s shoulder looked like he had been attacked by an angry little rat. Justin was understandably less amused.

Finally we arrived in Florence and checked into our apartment, which was about a 30 minute walk outside of downtown in a quiet residential area. Justin dashed out in the rain to find us a margherita pizza for dinner while I bathed and fed Harris and tucked him in. The next morning I located a moka pot and boiled us some espressos on the stove. After we were able to pull ourselves together we walked back into town and found a little panini shop called I Fratellini that served simple, fresh, delicious sandwiches of mozzarella, prosciutto, tomato and arugula, and mini glasses of wine. There are no tables, just a small stand-up bar that can only fit about two people side by side. We paused to eat our sandwiches, little flakes of crusty bread falling all over us. We then took another sandwich and a small bottle of wine to go for a picnic once we got to Pisa - our big excursion of the day.

We decided that we would jump on another train (because we are masochists, I guess?) to get up to Pisa for some sightseeing. Once again, Harris voiced and mimed his displeasure in rail travel. It rained the whole way over but after arriving at the train station we decided it was raining light enough that we could probably manage walking the 30 or so minutes it would take to get to the leaning tower. The town of Pisa was quiet and sleepy, maybe because it was a Sunday. After winding around some lovely cobblestoned streets, there it was - the leaning tower of Pisa! We hurriedly snapped our family photos - you can see how thrilled Harris looks in them! Then suddenly, the skies opened up and it dumped cold rain. A forceful wind also came up out of nowhere, which actually blew peoples’ umbrellas inside out and sent the sightseers scurrying for cover under any possible ledge around the church. We sheltered in the lobby of a museum and looked in vain for a cab or a way to call an Uber. As soon as the rain slackened to a reasonable level, we decided to just make a run for it and speed walked all the way back to the train station and headed back to Florence.

Our next adventure took us to the Castello Trebbio, a Tuscan castle built in 1185 by the Pozzi family - rivals to the Medicis. We booked a small group tour but it wound up being only the three of us. We learned about the history of the Pozzi family, the conspiracy they planned against the Medicis and the bloody revenge feud that it resulted in. We got to visit the cellars and of course, no castle is complete without its very own dungeon! We learned about the Chianti region and the functionality of the little straw baskets you traditionally see around bottles of Chianti wine. The tour then brought us to the kitchen where we had a private pasta making lesson - well I had a private lesson. Justin was in and out of the kitchen keeping Harris occupied. I learned how to make a well in the flour for the egg and how to slowly incorporate the egg until the dough is formed. I learned how to tell when the dough is ready - when you poke it and it no longer springs back. I also learned how to make some pasta sauces; how the ingredients should be added one at a time - to properly honor the taste and flavor of each one; how you should transfer the sauce to a fresh pan if you’ve left it simmering for too long and the bottom is scorched - so as not to scrape the burn tomatoes into the sauce. And I learned how it is a misconception that you can use bad or cheap wine for cooking, because this will only result in bad tasting sauce. And finally, I learned that when making sauce you always need two bottles of good wine - one for the sauce, and once for the cook. 

Once I had kneaded the dough and sliced it into fine noodles and the sauce was happily simmering, we were brought into a dining room that had a huge crackling fireplace in the corner. We were seated at a round table and given a wine tasting. Then we got to eat the pasta and sauce that I had made. Even Harris got to pull up to the table and was given a small plate of plain pasta noodles. But why eat freshly homemade pasta when you can instead just gnaw on the edge of medieval dining table? I’m afraid to admit that I think our son may have damaged a piece of antiquity by marking it with his little rat teeth, but perhaps it will just blend in with the other nicks and scratches… For dessert we enjoyed crunchy biscotti cookies dunked in honey-sweet vino santo. Then on our way out, we bought two bottles of wine to enjoy over the next couple of days. 

Having taken our obligatory momento photographs and completed our pasta and wine experience, we relaxed on our final day in Florence. We had a slow, easy morning and for the third time this week visited a local panetteria that had delicious sweets and cappuccinos. A favorite treat of mine was a multi-layered, crunchy cookie dusted in powdered sugar that resembles an oyster. I found out later these are called sfogliatelle - which means “lobster tail” so I wasn’t far off. We took a pleasant walk into town following the Arno river all the way down and ducked into a craft brewery for a couple of beers and some delicious fried mozzarella sticks.

To make the journey home a little more manageable, we decided to head back to Rome a day before our flight. We stayed in a cute little boutique hotel and managed to find a gelato shop right around the corner. We spent our final evening savoring our last bottle of special castle wine.