Cindy is the smartest trip planner in the world.  She knew that after a full week of touring, tasting, biking, and shopping, we would need a down day.  My body would have thanked her if I had had enough sense to actually hang out at the villa and rest. But, no.  I figured I could rest in Nashville and this is why NSAIDs were invented. 

Thursday was the free day.   Give six women a full day in Florence with nothing planned and anything can happen.  We split into two groups, then those groups splintered further.  Sally and I went in search of the Leonardo da Vinci Museum.  There is nothing like a museum to highlight how much you don’t know like that da Vinci and Michelangelo were contemporaries.  Da Vinci was about twenty years older and they hated each other. Who knew? 

Da Vinci, though known for his beautiful art, was an engineer and a dreamer at heart.  Like all artists, he had to have a wealthy patron.  One of his patrons was a Borgia who wielded a reign of terror and conquered his way through Italy.  Da Vinci designed any number of lethal weapons that changed warfare forever.  When Borgia assassinated one of his best friends, Leonardo decided maybe he should get a different patron.  So, Leonardo Da Vinci was basically the Tony Stark of the Fifteenth Century. 

It was raining, but even in the rain, Florence is beautiful. We stumbled into a new, different plaza in front of the Duomo.  Across from it was the Baptistry, an octagonal building with gilded bronze doors.  I had been told that this was a “must-see” and am so glad I did.  The Duomo was both glorious and imposing.  The designer did not go for a “less is more” aesthetic.  

Sally and I shopped and walked until about three when we were finally wet and tired enough to head back to the villa. Just before we got there, we ducked into a tiny cafe.  Sally had Ribollita and I had Pappa al Pomodoro, both traditional Tuscan soups made with stale bread.  Sally’s was vegetable and mine was tomato.  That was a favorite dish and one I hope to recreate at home.  Beth passed the cafe in the pouring rain.  We banged on the window and she came in to join us.  While we were eating, four young people came in, ordered coffee, and began to play cards.  They were there hours later.  

After Cindy, Dana, Judy, and Beth had a leisurely lunch, they split up.  Beth found the Mercator Centrale Firenze, where she drank sangria and wandered amongst the hundreds of vendors.  She came home with flowers and one of her favorite adventures of the trip. Judy, who is the most talented and experienced shopper I have ever met, did damage at any number of boutiques. I am living vicariously through her.  Cindy and Dana had their hair done.  It was very Audrey Hepburn, only Florence not Rome and there was no Gregory Peck involved.  They, however, were beautiful. 

By the time Sally, Beth and I got home the others had begun to arrive as well.  We compared purchases, shared our day, and drank wine.  Beth found charming etchings at a shop near our villa, so I ran back out to buy some as well.  They are one of my favorite purchases and the perfect souvenir of Tuscany. Cindy brought home “the biggest T-bone in the universe.”  We cooked the pasta we had helped make the night before and had that with salads and that fabulous steak.  It was another perfect day.  

November 1st is All Saints Day and they take that very seriously in Florence.  As we were walking to the Accademia Gallery to see Michelangelo’s David, the church bells began to ring.  It was deafening and glorious.  When we walked by the Duomo, we could see the Cardinal and several priests processing out.  That was a special moment and a reminder of how important the day is.  They don’t wait until the next Sunday to celebrate.  They make it a national holiday. 

We again went different ways agreeing to reconvene at 4 pm for our tour of the Uffizi.  At three, Sally, Beth and I saw some attractive men walking along with a camera crew.  Beth asked a man who they were.  He explained it was a Spanish actor who had appeared on the Italian Big Brother.  Then he introduced us to his family, a cousin, the cousin’s wife, and their toddler.  It happened that the cousin was a designer who had been to Nashville to show his line to Nordstrom.  The wife, Katherine, was from Houston.  Soon we were walking with our new friends to their shop, which happened to be on our way.  We barely had time to stop in and look around.  Everything was beautiful.  When a designer goes and pulls a coat in your exact size and tells you that this is the coat you need to buy because something, something, something (he was charming and I was eating it up.) Then he showed Beth a coat.  Her’s was navy.  I prefer navy. He said absolutely not.  I needed to wear black.  Beth and I have new coats.  The experience was worth the cost of the coats, but the coats are fabulous too. 

We hurried to meet our friends only to hit a wall of people. Note to self and any other travelers.  Do not plan to visit Italian museums of any kind on a national holiday. The museums are free and everyone and their Aunt Francesca take advantage of that fact.  Picture Broadway when the Preds were in the Playoffs during CMA Week and a concert at Nissan Stadium. The Uffizi was that kind of crowded and everyone wanted to go through one door.  ONE DOOR.  We seriously considered bailing, but it is just wrong to go to Florence and not visit The Uffizi.  

I am pretty sure there is no Fire Marshall in Florence.  I have never seen so many people in one line.  We, with our tour group, were finally nearing the front when a group of women came pushing through the crowd. Our tour guide quietly explained to us that they were in the wrong place but were Italian and would not be reasoned with.  It was almost worth the wait to see the man keeping the line send them packing.  I later saw them in one of the galleries so they did get in, just not in front of us. 

Our tour guide was extremely knowledgeable and hilarious.  She did a great job navigating the crowds and showing us the highlights of the museum.  As a rule, I don’t mind crowds, but I was even ready to call it a day when our tour ended.  We will simply have to return to Florence and to the Uffizi on a less crowded, more opportune day.  Maybe in January during an ice storm. 

I like to eat.  I like to eat Italian food. So it surprised even me when I was too tired to eat last night.  We set out the leftovers from our meals and everyone grazed.  We sat on the terrace, drank chianti, and waved at the people who stared at us.  By 9 pm, I called it a night.  I finished packing and fell into bed.  You know it has been a good trip when you are as tired when you wake up as you were when you went to sleep. I will take that kind of tired any time.  

The trouble with trying to write a fun travel blog when you are with five friends is there is no time to write a fun travel blog. The only reason I am doing this now is that I promised myself that I would and I think everyone else is still asleep.

On Monday we went to Venice. I have several friends who say Venice is their favorite city. One friend said he would move to Venice if he could. He lives on the water in Orange Beach, so I had very high expectations. We took the high speed train and were there in under two hours. Our lovely guide was a German woman who had lived in Venice for twenty years.We had little headsets so we could follow her through the narrow streets and alleys and hear her explanations. Venice is basically the Wall Street of Europe. It was built by and for businessmen who wanted to be safe from the political and religious wars. While it is now known for Murano Glass and velvet, it was built on the spice trade. You can walk around the entire city in under four hours. However, they say to “get lost in Venice” for a reason. The tiny streets lead everywhere and nowhere with no rhyme or reason. I can promise you I kept my group in sight at all times. I seriously thought about holding someone’s hand.

We toured St. Mark’s Basilica and climbed the ninety steps to see the city from the top. Being businessmen, they knew they needed a “good saint” to attract people and keep the Pope off their backs. So they went to Egypt and nicely asked the church that had St. Mark’s bones if they could have them. The Egyptian church said no. So, they waited until their hosts’ backs were turned and stole the bones. To get the skeleton through customs they covered it with pork. You can’t make this up people. There are giant, 18 carat gold murals telling the story on the front of the Basilica. Then, in adding on to the church, they put the bones away for safekeeping and LOST THEM. They lost the bones of the saint they had gone to so much trouble to steal. I’m pretty sure God was just messing with them. They prayed. A lot. And eventually a column broke open and the bones fell out. Again, there is a mosaic.

We finished our tour about 1pm wandered out to explore on our own in search of Murano glass and food. The tiny trattoria we found had upstairs seating and there was a large table of gondoliers seated near us. After a great meal, we did find Murano glass. Then wandered back slowly and aimlessly toward the Grand Canal enjoying the city.

One sad thing is that many of the villas (apartments) stand empty because the families that own them can’t afford to renovate them to livable standards. If you did have the millions required, you have to get permission which is draconian and slow. Then, you must add a new septic system, which involves excavation, so that means getting the archeologists involved. And, at any time the construction could cause the entire building to crumble. Needless to say the population is shrinking.

I am thrilled to have seen Venice, but unlike my friend in Orange Beach, I would keep the Gulf and let them have their canals.

On Tuesday we took a tour of Florence and the surrounding country side on an E-bike. This is like a regular bike, only it has a small motor which helps you climb hills and go faster on the flat lands. When we were planning this trip, Beth mentioned that she had done it and it was fun. Everyone was very excited. I thought it sounded like a terrible idea. I can ride a bike, but it has been years and was at the beach where everything is flat and there is very little traffic. I would never ride a bike in Crested Butte because I would die trying to climb the hills and I would die losing control trying to descend the hills. No one insisted I do it. Only Cindy even knew I was hesitant. So, off we went. It was spectacular. We saw parts of Florence we would have never seen. We went up large, winding hills with glorious views. We toured an organic olive farm and botanical garden. Truly one of the best things I have ever done.

Also, about that E-bike thing. I was scared stupid the entire time. Sometimes I was a little frightened. It was misty and, part of the time, rainy. ‘Florence traffic is fast and reckless. The motor, even on the lowest setting, pushes you forward faster than you would normally go. We had to maneuver tiny, traffic clogged streets, sharp turns often through gates or bars, and blind hairpin turns going both up and down the hills. Our lovely guide, Felicia, said at one time, “Please be careful. Florence traffic can be wild and very dangerous.” I had to consciously think about flowers and puppies and anything other than the fact that my guide had just confirmed all my fears. Coming down one long descent with sharp switchbacks, I slowed and turned too sharp and had to stop. I could see the rest of the descent in front of me. I froze. I could not move at all. Sally was behind me and asked if I needed to walk my bike. I knew if I got off that bike that they would be sending a van to pick me up because I would never get back on it. So, somehow I started again and made it to the end of the tour. At no time was I not afraid. I had a blast and would not have missed it for anything.

That afternoon we split up and Sally, Beth, and I walked a million miles in about three hours exploring, touring and shopping.

Tuesday evening we had dinner at Locale. It was Judy’s birthday so this was our very festive Michelin star dinner. I have learned to order very little at this kind of restaurant because you could be satisfied with the extras they pop in front of you. I had the risotto, and, next to Evans’ risotto, it was the best I have ever had. I have yet to eat risotto anywhere better than Evans can make. But the decor and service were way better than you will find at my house and I didn’t have to clean the kitchen.

Wednesday was our tour of the Wine Country. It is not helpful to say every day has been my favorite, but every day has been my favorite. We met our driver Claudia and our new best friends Dan and Amye, a newlywed couple from Jackson, Mississippi. The nine of us took up every seat in the van. All those hills we had ridden on bikes we now flew up in a van. For my East Tennessee friends, think driving to Piney very, very fast only on a road half as wide with an ancient wall on one side.

We visited three wineries and they were all very different. We started with Savignola Paolina. I learned that Chianti is best with food, which is probably why I always like Chianti. We tasted three wines along with bread and cheese. Luckily for Evans, I preferred the cheap stuff which is what I bought. The nicer wine they served is especially good with game, so I bought a few bottles in anticipation of the elk Evans is going to shoot next week.

From there we went to Altiero. The charming owner greeted us. He was probably in his early forties and had developed and expanded the winery over the last decade or so. First he explained all the things that regularly go wrong for wine makers and olive oil producers. White flies had invaded his olive trees killing his entire 2019 crop of olive oil. His vineyard was also regularly beset by roe deer and wild boars. We could see where a wild boar had torn up the ground right by his cellar. For the record I hate wild boars and believe they should be shot on sight. They do have organized boar hunts here but obviously not often enough. When he finally got around to talking about his wine, he told us there were three kinds: the best, the best in the world, and the best in the universe.

For our tasting we sat on their personal terrace and his wife served us pasta al pomodoro (a very thick tomato soup made with tomatoes, onions, and bread), bruschetta, and a saffron and zucchini rigatoni that was unlike anything I have ever had. It was delicious. We tried all his wines with lunch and several people ordered those as well.

On the way to our next winery, we stopped and toured a tiny Italian mountain village. It is basically one street of homes that makes a big semi-circle. It was mostly residential with one “bar” that looked like all the other houses except for the small wooden sign that said “bar.”

The final winery was Bartolini Baldelli. It has been producing wine continuously since the fifteenth century. In addition to the cellars, we toured the gardens of the estate. The views from there, even with mist and clouds, were like something from a painting.

Again we tried three wines, and they were all very good. Then they offered us a fourth. The wine maker had handed over production to his sister and nephew beginning in 2016. They let us taste both the 2016 and the 2015 of Caprosso. No offense to the nephew, but the old man has him beat by a mile. I ordered several bottles of the 2015. I have a few wine friends I want to impress so they will get this. It was lovely.

I also learned that I have been inaccurately maligning a nice Italian restaurant in Nashville. I have always said their olive oil is terrible. Actually, according to what I learned on this trip, their olive oil is excellent. I just don’t like it. I think I will stick with Kirkland.

Then we hurtled back down the mountain as if we were in a chase scene in a Bond movie. Italians drive like crazy people. I am fascinated that there is not a daily death tally.

When we arrived back at the villa, Erica, our concierge and chef was already preparing our dinner. It was our cooking class. She (and we to a much lesser extent) made pumpkin tortellini, Italian meatballs stuffed with olives, a lovely fennel salad, and sea bass roasted under a bed of herbed salt. Everything about it was delicious.

I have discovered a new kind of tired. It is when your body is completely exhausted and you still don’t go to bed because you are afraid you will miss something. Traveling with these ladies has been a joy and each day is somehow better than the one before it.

Several months ago, my friend Cindy asked if I wanted to go on a girls trip to Tuscany. TUSCANY! Of course I said yes, and Cindy planned an amazing trip. With all that has been happening, the trip was upon me before I knew it. We won’t dwell on the drama I caused myself and others finding clothes and packing for twelve days in Italy with fabulous women.

Cindy is a genius. She invited five friends to go on this trip where we would spend a couple of days in Milan, then a week in a villa in Florence. I knew Cindy and one other of the group, my friend Sally. I assumed everyone else knew each other. I was wrong. Cindy decided we should be friends so she orchestrated it.

In the group are Cindy, and Sally, who are close friends from church. And Beth, Dana, and Judy, who are new best friends for life. All but Dana are from Nashville. We know a lot of the same people, but did not know each other before this trip. Cindy could not have found a more fun, different, and cohesive group of women. By the time we arrived in Milan, we had confused bartenders in two restaurants in JFK, tried out all the Delta and Alitalia Lounges, and learned each other’s stories.

We landed in the rain, checked into our hotel, and headed out to tour the city. Our guide spoke perfect English, with a strong, strong, strong Italian accent and a soft, whispery voice. What we heard was “Ssssss-Duomo-sssssss-Viscotti-sssssss-Leonardo-sssssss-Atrium-sssssss-Castle-ssssss-Last Supper.” We were able to skip the lines, move quickly around the major sites, and have a good, if wet, overview of the city.

Beth had booked dinner reservations for Lo Felix Basso, a Michelin star restaurant in the Atrium in Milan. We were seated at 7:30, which is when they opened. We had not yet adjusted to the Italy norm of eating at 10 pm, nor had we had much sleep in the last 36 hours. I will admit to having the most pedestrian of palates. I don’t even like mustard. But when you are offered food that has been judged to be the best in the world and is prettier than art, you put it in your mouth and say thank you. The entire experience was spectacular. I lost track of the courses they brought. The tableware for each dish was unique and fascinating. And we sat at a table that overlooked the Piazza.

After a short night of dead sleep, we reconvened early for a different tour of Milan. This time our tour guide was the fabulous Catia who spoke perfect English as well as Latin and several other languages. She took us beneath the Duomo to see the excavations and then to the roof. Milan from the roof of the Duomo was magical as was the roof itself. The carvings, mostly to the glory of God, but some to the glory of whomever was in charge at the time, are fascinating. You could follow the political and power evolution by the designs carved into the marble.

I could have stayed all day, but there was too much to see and Catia was so knowledgeable. She took us to tour the museums of the Castle by way of the fashion district. The Castle showed the art of Milan through the centuries. Anything after the 17th Century is quite modern. Like the carvings on top of the Duomo, this art reflected the power and the politics of the day. Much of it was breathtaking, but among my favorites was a relief carved into marble of a woman holding up her skirts and showing her…self. It was made to ridicule the wife of a hated conqueror. There were many images of The Virgin Mary and Jesus. My favorite shows an obviously young, tired teenage Mary. The baby Jesus looks like a little brute. No beatific angelic faces for that artist.

We splintered and went different ways. I joined Cindy and Judy on a shopping expedition. Oh. My. Word. Let’s just say it was an education. These women are PROS. They know style. They know what they like. And they know how to duck down the right alleys to find the very freshest, newest, most fabulous new things. I bought gloves. I am a beginner, but I have all week to be tutored by these masters.

That evening we went to La Scala to see Julius Caesar. I had never been to the opera. My dad loved opera and would have loved to have seen this, so it was special to me. The opera house is lush, rich red velvet with ornate gold throughout. We had really good seats in the first gallery and could see into the boxes below us. The Italians of the time when La Scala was built must have been a small people. The seats were tight, with no leg room to speak of, but who cares. The whole place was red velvet. Every surface was covered by red velvet. It was like being inside a jewel box.

Halfway through the first act, I realized that the little screen cutting into my knees was a translator for the words. Mine did not work, which was fine since it took me so long to get it above my knees. I had read that this opera was originally written for Castrati, men who had a certain surgery to keep their voices high. I have no idea how the singers who sang the role now hit those notes. I will assume they just have a special gift. It was quite difficult to tell when the person singing was a man or a woman. The staging was modern, so we were expecting togas but got military uniforms, razor wire and jeeps. Cleopatra was spectacular.

I have to say, the actual words that they sing are pretty simple and repetitive. When a man whose voice is higher than mine is singing about avenging his father repeating the same words ad nauseum, it’s a little hard to take him seriously. Just shoot him already! With the modern staging it was a bit Monty Python, which totally worked. We had to not laugh during the performance, but giggled at length afterwards.

We had a bite to eat after the opera and the diva, the gorgeous singer who played Cleopatra, came into the restaurant. We applauded then the rest of the restaurant applauded. It was terribly exciting. We finally called it a night around 2 am.

We had a late start on Friday before catching the train to Florence. This trip keeps getting better and better.