To market, to market

I finally got my lazy butt out of bed to run along the Arno River. Holy cow, it was beautiful.

The sun was just rising, highlighting a chapel across the river which was reflected in the water. With the streets free of tourists, Italian shop keepers were busily readying for their day, sweeping, primping, giving the American weird looks as he plodded by.

No photos while running. One morning will be dedicated to rising early just for photos.

We went to the San Lorenzo market, which was pretty fun. Leather goods everywhere, Italian scarves and ties, all manner of souvenirs. And, everyone was expected to haggle.

I photographed a merchant surrounded by his wares, which were purses of all shapes and sizes. He was a proud man, but was very gracious in accomodating me. He even gave me his card to send him a photo. And, should I ever need any leather goods . . .

I actually had to stay busy today, photographing the apartments where the students live for some publicity for the study abroad program. Hey, if the company's sending me, better do my best to earn my keep, right?

Tonight, we are going to an outlying city to hear the UCA choir peform. Something about hearing their voices in a church that dates back hundreds of years is guaranteed to bring goose bumps. They sounds great.

Scooterista!

Yeah, I'm kinda in two-wheeled heaven.

I've been watching these people and their scooters, and I'm telling you, it's a different environment.

For one is their riding style. Most where open-faced helmets, and I'm presuming it's to allow you the ability to smoke.

Or talk on the cell phone.

Or both.

I actually saw a guy today talking on a cell phone with one hand and adjusting his helmet with the other. The only thing missing was the cigarette.

It's actually really interesting to see all walks of life on the scooters. Young, old, male, female, professional businessmen in suits, and the guy I saw today carrying a string trimmer on his.

It makes me miss my motorcycle somewhat, although you see probably five scooters for every one motorcycle in town.

Their manner of driving - splitting lanes, cutting into empty spaces between cars, going down wrong way streets - is daunting, but the ease with which they do it makes me envious as well.

I wonder if I could take a spin on one, just to see what it's like?

Crystal says no.

The whirlwind that is Florence

Man, it seems like we haven't stopped since we hit this city.

Yesterday was pretty jam-packed, with a couple of tours filling our day. In the morning, we visited the Palazzo di Cerchi, the study abroad facility that UCA shares with Kent State. A few blocks from the Duomo, a huge basillica that pretty much is used to establish where you are the in city, the centuries-old building once housed the Cerchi family who were a part of the Tuscan aristocracy. (I hope I got that right)

An interesting mix of wooden beams that are hundreds of years old and wireless Internet should make for a pretty interesting study environment.

We accompanied a group of students study under Dr. Charles Bane on a tour of Dante's house as well as a church where his muse is entombed. Pretty awesome to think that a student studying Dante could actually see where he lived . . .

We had lunch in the Piazza Dell Signoria, which faces the Palazzo Vecchio, another home for a prominent Italian family. The afternoon was taken with a bus and walking tour of Florence, which included a drive up to a summer community overlooking Florence. What an amazing view. Too bad we could get off the bus for photos . . .

We came back down into the city, making our way on foot to the Piazza Di Santa Croce, where another beautiful chapel is located. That's when the first rumbling of thunder occurred.

Oddly enough, the rain began when the guide was showing us a spot on a building where the Arno River reached during a flood in 1966.

We ran to the Loggia Del Lanzi, where several of the sculptures are in place, when it REALLY began to rain. Another quick run to the Ufizzi Gallery, where the tour was to end, and it REALLY, REALLY began to rain.

I mean blowing sideways.

Then it hailed.

We got soaked.

Nothing like viewing the works of Titian, Rembrandt and da Vinci (yes, they had a few of the works he actually painted) while dripping on the marble floor.

When the rain finally stopped, we slogged our way back to the hotel, changed clothes and made a mad dash (well, taxi ride, which is a mad dash in itself) for a reception at the school. We were treated to a performance by the UCA choir and some reminiscing by Patsy Minton Newton, who was a Fullbright Scholar and UCA graduate who visited Italy in 1953.

Despite having snacks at the reception, several of us were still hungry and made our way back to the Piazza Della Signoria before continuing to the Piazza Della Repubblica for a meal at yet another great open-air ristorante.

However, not before I took advantage of the rain clouds parting in the early evening hours to take some photos of a replica of Michelangelo's "David" which is in front of the Palazza Vecchio. It's amazing to view the copy; I hope we can find time to visit the real thing, which is housed in the Galleria Dell'Accademia in another part of the city.

At the end of dinner, a long procession came through the plaza from what must have been a huge Catholic church. Hundreds of churchgoers carrying candles marched through the square, in addition to many priests, nuns and altar boys as the Doxology played on speakers throughout the plaza. It was really an interesting site to see, and yet nobody could explain why is was going on! I asked the nearby polizia what it was, and all I got was "processzione," while another officer explained loudly, "Cat-o-leeka."

I guess that's just what you do in Florence.

Settling in

Another nice hotel stay in a beautiful Italian town.

The Hotel Executive is a block away from the Arno River, and a 10 minute walk from the Ponte Vecchio Bridge, a bustling place with merchants selling all types of Italian knock-offs. Get caught with one of those, and you get busted along with the person selling the stuff.

Ouch.

I'm planning to get up early and jog in the morning along the river, or in a nearby park, provided I can actually get out of bed as it's nearing midnight as I'm posting this. It's a great hotel, and even features a guest bed in a small room just off the main quarters.

Too bad one of you can't be with us, eh? We thought it would have been the perfect place for our daughter Katie to sleep. Sorry, sweetie. We wish you were sleeping in there. You would love seeing all of the sights - or, more importantly, visiting all the designer shops we've passed along the way.

Best Italian meal evar!

Or, at least that we've had so far.

Typical Italian meals last from two to four hours. It is served in several courses over that time, starting with an apetizer (antipasto), a couple of main courses, desert, coffee, etc.

Tonight's meal was at the ristorante Buca Mario in downtown Florence. We took a bit of a stroll beforehand, winding over the Ponte Vecchio Bridge and through the San Lorenzo Market, viewing life-sized replicas of David, sculptures of famous Italian artists and inventors, and eventually wandering backstreets until we found the restaurant where our reservations were.

We were taken downstairs in the restaurant, which wound around through wine cellars until we found our places. The meal was incredible, to say the least.

Beginning with plates of Tuscan meat cuts and mixed cannape, a local favorite was one of the main courses. Florence is know for its wild boar, and ours was served on fettuccine. It was followed by thin slices of t-bone steak with rocket salad and pine seed roast potatoes.

But, the tiramisu topped the evening off. I think Jennifer will understand when I say this was a little chocolate slice of heaven on a plate. Rich, creamy, I would have fought anybody sitting at the table for a second plate.

Fortunately, I was stuffed enough that I didn't have to do that.

Everyone had a great time, laughing and sharing tales from our travels thus far, although the ride here was not mentioned, just walking back to the hotel reinforced the need to keep your head on a swivel constantly in this city.

Italian drivers

No photos to accompany this post. I was too busy holding on.

We left Venice bright and early this morning via motorcoach headed to Florence. This was quite a cultural experience in Italian driving, to say the least.

It was bad enough being cramped up on this "bus," which wasn't designed to accomodate someone of my height. Fortunately, we did make one stop at the "Autogrill," which is the equivalent of a truck stop or convenience store in the U.S.

The fare was pretty interesting. I found some motorcycle magazines that I kinda wanted to purchase to read on the ride, except my Italian is not so good. No candy bars, although I did find a section of chocolates. No coffee machine, either; it was made by baristas while you waited. I settled for a Red Bull and moved on.

Leaving Venice, traffic was pretty packed. The driver got several "Italian saltues;" I joked that everybody was waving at us, so we should wave back!

Finally arriving in Florence, traffic was pretty much the same, except more scooters and motorcycles were thrown into the mix. The cyclists filter lanes, or split lanes as it is called stateside. They drive in the space between lanes (basically on the lines on the road), cutting into and through traffic with seemingly little thought. Amazing and frightening at the same time.

We arrived early at our hotel, so we dropped off our bags and headed for lunch, which was our next lesson in Italian driving. While walking to lunch, Jim, who directs the international program at UCA, advised us to watch out for drivers. "They don't stop," he warned.

He was not kidding.

Even at crosswalks, with the light signaling you had the right of way, you still had to bolt. It's made me think long and hard about jogging in the morning, although with the amount of pizza I've had, I probably should.

Gondola ride

So we did the ultimate touristy thing in Venice last night. We rode a gondola.

It was actually a lot of fun, because even though it was a "touristy" thing to do, we got to go down some smaller, more out of the way canals, and get more of a glimpse of what life is like for a resident of Venice. Window flower boxes, laundry hanging from windows drying, and dogs sleeping on boats tied to nearby apartments were the norm on the backstreets.

Our gondolier was Franco ("Hey, justa call me Frankie, like Frankie Goes to Hollywood"). We actually had three gondolas, with one featuring a vocalist and accordinoist keeping us entertained through our tour.

We started on the Grand Canal, with the gonola station right outside our front door, and then wound our way around the city, seeing Marco Polo's home, as well as the apartment that Cassanova stayed. "He was a great lover," explained Frankie.

Later, he did his impersonation of him with Danielle, who is the director of the study abroad program. She wanted her picture taken with him, and he obliged, but he didn't want to seem to let go of Danielle. A few more pictures, por favor . . .