Saturday 30 April 2011

Florence the second

So the wedding, kind of boring. I watched bits and pieces of it in amongst a fling with making my own spaghetti Carbonara (result: not too shabby). The dress, A-, some room for improvement. The highlight, the flyover of those WWII planes.

But the Florence! That's why we're here. I was out early for groceries and a sniff around my neighbourhood. It's called Oltrarno, which means 'beyond the Arno'. Perhaps not great for morale, naming part of your city as the other part of the city.

The Ponte Vecchio before the crowds arrive. You don't even realise it's a bridge until you get to the break in shops halfway over. They're all jewellery shops, which is a step up from tourist junk, but still. Peek at the Duomo in the background there - well played, town planners.

Upwind (or possibly downwind) from the Ponte Vecchio.

Whichever-wind the last one wasn't from the Ponte Vecchio.

The side of the Ponte Vecchio itself. It's alarming to see all those flash jewellery shops are just tacked onto the side of the bridge like some kind of barnacle-shacks.

Out again in the afternoon in search of a view (Florence goes quite steeply uphill on this side of the river).


The Gate of the Giants. Florence is on pretty good terms with the giants, but the gates are still shut every day at sundown, just to be safe. Also, may actually be Porta Romana.

Muahahaha. As I walked I plotted some schemes. And maybe also schemed some plots.

It rained! Finally! The first rain I've had - and thank goodness too, I bought an umbrella (pictured, oops) especially to bring with me and I was getting cross at its superfluousness. I don't know what this garden is. It's not labelled on the map so it could be someone's backyard.

The umbrella paying its way.

Oh no, the Swiss are invading! We'll all be prodded to death with blunt knives. Or is it the Danish? We'll all have sticky pastries flung at our heads. I don't even know. But the tower is part of San Miniato al Monte, which I'll return to when I'm not all drippity drip.

These narrow streets with high buildings don't sit well with my suburban preferences. Even on the footpath you're in constant danger of having your elbow clipped by a passing bus (yes, buses go down them - my apartment glows like a jar of honey every time an orange bus passes beneath the windows), and the echoes of every vehicle and person are deafening.

Hey! Shoo! Back to Venice, winged lion.

I need to make some actual plans, otherwise my time in Florence will be all aimless wandering and no actual seeing of anything. Excitingly, tomorrow is some kind of special late night party so there should be plenty to marvel at, and all the museums are free and open until midnight, so I might see if I can sneak in to look at David and naked chick riding a clam.

Friday 29 April 2011

Florence the first

Renting a place in Florence = a genius move on my part. Not only is it cheap, and central, and gorgeous (see below), but I have my own kitchen, and tonight, for the first time since NZ, I had broccoli. Ahhh.

Mine is a life of small thrills.

Central Florence is super-small - I walked from the station to my apartment in about half an hour, in heavy foot traffic, dragging luggage. I meant to catch a bus, and took an underpass at the station thinking it would lead me to public transport, but instead I ended up in sight of the Duomo, and then with my great navigational luck at Ponte Vecchio, and then I was there.

This is the living/dining room. It's just lovely. My landlady is great too, she left me all manner of drinkables in the fridge (including an outsize bottle of Tuborg, "the beer of Danish kings"), and marked on a map the supermarket and the laundromat and the best gelato. You know, the essentials.

View down the street. Perhaps I'm leaving myself open to stalkers and murderers by posting my location so exactly, but the building is secure and I have a human shower alarm in the form of my landlady's brother, who lives in the apartment upstairs. Which is reassuring. Unless I actually do fall in the shower. Oh crap. Careful, careful. If you don't hear from me for a couple of days, someone let my mum know.

No real plans for tomorrow, probably just some gentle exploration and maybe a peep at the wedding - but DO NOT TELL MY DAD. We hate those jerks. But I want to see the dress.

Venice the sixth


I think I’ve accidentally got on the Chicago-New York train – my whole coach is filled with Americans. It’s lovely though, I have a single seat that’s both aisle and window, a place to plug in my laptop, and a welcoming coffee of surprising goodness. The experience smashes flying to a pulp. If only air travel was done in trains.

My last morning in Venice I had just enough time for a final canalside cappuccino (view pictured above), fulfilment of the mission to procure a Venice refrigerator magnet, and packing. For some reason my luggage seems a lot more manageable than it did leaving Paris. I fear that I'm shedding my belongings as I go, although my Venice hotel room was on the fourth floor with no elevator, so maybe I'm just more conditioned *flexes

 [Mostly for the Trends people] And good work Karina and Al, who had another boy. This was stuck on the building next to my Venice hotel (é nato Samuel – Samuel was born). Now I’m agitating for them to call the baby Samuel, because I’m sure he’d love to explain to people later in life that he was named after a ribbon.

Thursday 28 April 2011

Venice the fifth

Stick a fork in this trip - it's done! I found Chipsters!

Chipsters were on sale in NZ in, like, 1991 and disappeared suddenly and I'm the only one who remembers them - and here they are in Italy! And they're the exact same little puffs of nothingy reconstituted potato that I remember. Oh, this is a great day for Amykind.

Today was largely a day of going to things where photography is forbidden. Firstly the Church of the Frari, where I was reluctant to be giving a 3.00 entry fee to God, but the ticket assured me it was going towards the upkeep of the church. They should keep it up, too, because it's pretty impressive. Whereas the English cathedrals are crammed with tombs, Italian ones are crammed with art. This one has the fairly recognisable Assumption of the Virgin by Titian, and a Donatello (so that's all the TMNTs knocked off my list already) - and tombs besides, including that of Antonio Canova, he of the swoon-inducing Cupid & Psyche sculpture in the Louvre.

Then La Scuola di San Rocco, which is full to bursting with melodramatic Tintorettos. My highlights included Three Children in the Furnace (well done), Jonah Emerges From The Whale (precious hamburgers?) and Multiplication of Bread and Fishes ("Bread times fish equals camel? That's can't be right.")

Then I failed at Venice by wandering in such a direction that I ended up in what must be new Venice (mmm, bland).

Then student Venice. Hee hee.

Then the far end of town where the grickle grass grows. And then beyond that, the bit with cars. Only I could be confronted with the amazingness of Venice and subconsciously want to find my way back to dry ugly land.


 
Random Venice. The last one is where I had lunch. The waiter asked where I was from and when I told him New Zealand he said "Hey, kiwi country!" The whole world thinks we've styled ourselves after fruit, right?

This is for your own protection, ma'am.

Criminals beware! Here comes the water magistrate!

In the afternoon I visited the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, which is all modern art (first half of the 20th Century). I thought I was one of those cynics who hates modern art (as opposed to the other kind of cynics, who make modern art) but it was really really awesome. And a nice change, you know. All the earlier big names were creating works because their patron had commissioned an Annunciation or a Pieta or whatever, but these later peeps had to think about what they wanted to create, as well as how they were going to do it.

Florence tomorrow!

Wednesday 27 April 2011

Venice the fourth

Another day of exploratory walking/boating. Post-Easter weekend it was a bit quieter, and you could actually believe that real people live and work here, and that it's not populated entirely by tourists and the workers that serve them ice cream.

The tradesmen's entrance of the leper church. It's right in my neighbourhood so I can't stop finding it.


As per Ang's request, some pretty bits.

I love that there's no way to get to this door except by boat. Sucks to be you, legs!

This is the big-name Venice bridge, Ponte di Rialto. I think it's kind of dumb. First of all, those inside bits there are shops, mostly all selling tourist crud. Second, it's always lined with people like that, just standing there being all "Woohahaha, I'm on a bridge!". Third, it's currently being defaced by the pope there. It'd be alright if he was a cute little old popey-pope like the last one, but this one looks suspicious, like he's scheming things that bode ill for the non-believers.

A gondolier doing some gondoliering. (He actually looks more like he's on a magic carpet. I was trying to take a picture of the light reflecting on the underside of the bridge then he sailed along and got all up in my frame.) I'm used to a gondola being something that takes you up a mountain in Rotorua so you can luge down, and I keep forgetting that these are called that too.

The view back to Venice from Giudecca, an island just across that whatsit.

I'm such a dork. The bells started ringing and I was all "Ooh, must take a photo!"

It never really occurred to me that all those boats use petrol - I thought they just ran on Venetian magic.

I could see this Stucky building from across the water the other evening and I assumed it was a flour mill (I always assume factories made from brick are flour mills - is that racist of me?) but it turns out it's a Hilton hotel. Heh.

This whole end of Giudecca is brick buildings, which is an interesting change. I assume it's all so neat and tidy because of its vicinity to the hotel - heaven knows the pristine image of the Hilton name needs to be upheld at all costs!

Back towards Venice from a canal in Giudecca.

Weed, bro!

Gah, my sunburn from queueing outside Versailles is now peeling a little. That place is still tormenting me, even from beyond the grave.

Tuesday 26 April 2011

Venice the third

Today I caught the vaporetto to The Lido. It had the nice, relaxed vibe of an untrendy seaside town in New Zealand or Australia, with lots of slightly shabby cafes and shops selling many Chinese-made plastic beach accouterments. There are probably swankier areas, because you know, film festival and all, but what I saw was fairly low key. And there are cars! Quite the shock, after only two days without them.

And beaches! Call me crazy, but Venice itself doesn't feel oceany. There's no sand, no swimming, just streets that happen to be made of water. It was something of a jolt to come to The Lido and be all "That's right, that water is the sea!"

Italian beaches, however. The entire way down the coast road the beach was blocked from view by hedges, thoroughly fenced in, and lined with rows and rows of these little beach huts. That previous picture is the only hutless stretch of sand, possibly in the whole country.

I can't even. I just don't.

The reason for it escapes me entirely. Apparently this is how Italians like to go to the beach, and that is that.

So The Lido was pleasant, but aside from the army of beach huts planning to rise up and enslave us all, it was fairly unremarkable in the parts I perused. I walked up the beach side one way, peeking through hedges and gates for glimpses of the sea, then back down the other side, which has the boon of views back to Venice, but the downfall of apparently being where The Lido's sewage winds up. I did see a tennis club and a rugby field, which was a relief to me - I'd been wondering what Venetians did when they wanted to partake of a pastime that requires more space than, say, tiddlywinks.

Do you know, I don't think I've seen a street sign on a post since leaving NZ. In conclusion, the day was photographically uninteresting, but anthropologically and sociologically fascinating. Probably. To people who know what those things are.