GT-Six Firenze

Breakfast Room On The Arno

Throughout the trip, in Spain and Italy, Brazilian Jazz was used to denote the ultimate in cool sophistication, as you can hear in the above cool and sophisticated breakfast room clip. For me, there was a vague wave related theme ebbing and flowing through this trip - evident also in the start of the video. So it's only right to include reference to this thematically named masterpiece by Antonio Carlos Jobim.

Florence is a completely different city in the early morning time. Like an athlete in their prime in beautiful morning light, well before the cardiovascular congestion of thousands of tourists hits, casts shadows, slows everything down and usurps its vitality. Because the Galleria Della Academia opens at 8am, the earliest opening time of any of the cultural hotspots on our trip, it meant we were breakfasted and street walking by about 0730. We used our rats-up-a-drainpipe-to-a-masterpiece trick to get a relatively peaceful audience with Michelangelo's David. 

The glory and the grace of him at 8am in the morning is a core memory for all if us I think. What an incredible start to the day. M blown away. Me in awe. We all know that AI graphical generators can't do hands, but Michelangelo surely fucking can. 

Life changing, life destroying, humbling. Michelangelo’s genius leaves you asking yourself how can you look at a piece of hewn stone and wonder what it’s thinking? Another example where the unabashed scale of the piece can only be experienced while in front of it..... or behind it. 

Viewed from any angle it’s a spectacular achievement. A huge highlight, probably the biggest non-pizza highlight for all of us from the entire trip. The remainder of the exhibitions were good, but honestly all of it in the ha’penny place beside David. That said, one other highlight was the amazing faces on the works of Nardo di Cione. Took lots of photos of those ones featured in the "Side Eye" room. 

We also spotted Saint Corbo – an uncanny likeness, cast in marble, to a retired teacher in D&S’ school It was he who coined the timeless phrase of "kids swingin' outta the wifi".

Saint Corbo Of Roseberry

S rocking a Fontaines T at the Galleria

Éadí deas, brógaí briste. “Osmo” a name for S’s first kid. Didn’t sleep well and decided I needed to engage with the theatre of reporting the camera heist to get it out of my head and tell myself I had done everything I could do. I had an image of it sitting in some lost and found office at the end of the tracks, unclaimed because it hadn't been reported stolen. So after coffee I found a gated cop shop behind the Uffizi. I was led inside immediately (after being screamed at to close the fricken gate) by a ban garda who stepped me through my paces while smoking a vape during the gaps in the procedure, using Google translate to understand the finer details of my statement, all the while sporting perfect nails and a big gun. Took maybe 30mins start to finish – the longest part was providing my signature 8 times on 4 pages, every signature then officially stamped individually. I didn't get a PULSE reference so my hopes were not high and remain on the floor.  The garbled, Google translated statement opens with the “I would like to point out that I am here in Florence… I presume that unknown individuals, during a moment of distraction, stole my stuff” It’d be funny if it weren’t so unfunny. 

 

After my visit to the glama-carabinieri I had energy and M was relaxing, knitting on the bed in the hotel so I went looking for a good deli and bakery to source an Italian lunch made of good quality bought ingredients. Found a lovely local salumeria and bought some cheese, olives, sun-dried tomatoes, artichokes and butter. Got to love old school wrapping paper featuring comical caricatures of the store owners who served me. 

Salumeria Anime

Then bread and focaccia at a bakery up the street. Last stop was mango drinks at the Indian place across the street. Came back to the room and prepped up a storm. 

 

Signor Burro Is It?

D in the shower, S having slept, neither particularly hungry when summoned but on we went. M really enjoyed. Not exactly cheap but totally worth it. 

I said to the girls over our floor picnic that if they were pickpocketed it would be the largest lint heist in history. S said something about hurting her feelings and I said her feelings are constantly on the way to the A&E. She laughed. A light siesta then met the girls downstairs for 330 and off to the beautiful art deco train station (which none of us had the opportunity to enjoy on Tuesday) to catch a train to Pisa for S's bucket list Leaning Tower Of. 

Original signage persists over current function

Return Leg

The heat was insufferable on the way down, packed train, 34 degrees outside, 30 degrees inside the carriage. We followed the routine of waiting for the platform announcement, racing for a seat and taking a sigh of relief only to be arbitrarily shunted onto a different train on a platform all the way across the station. Thanks to the kind strangers who translated for us to ensure we transferred to the correct platform. 

The Sweep Of The Arno - Pisa Perspective

The journey to the tower was a bit of a hike to a bit of a zoo. Girls had fun doing the optical illusion thing. 

Work To Do

 

Not Nearly Arsed Enough

 

Getting There

 

Perfect!

The Gleaming Tower of Pisa

Another ChatGPT recommendation for a Gelato place - recommended Gelateria De' Coltelli down on the Pisa Quays. Turns out it was a natural spot, organic, fresh seasonal fruit, no synthetic products. 

I had a hazelnut one with some kind of coffee cream in a cone and it was pretty divine. My first gelato experience was a good one based on the Mr Twit remnants stuck in my beard and dripping down the front of my T-shirt. 

Mr Twit Is It?

No - Gelato Bimbo!

The evening light racing through town was sublime, so I juggled google maps, a phone camera, all with sticky post-gelato hands and got some nice shots. One minute you’re walking around Pisa in the balmy evening air, bathed in beautiful citrus light. The next the raw stink of freshly smoked human sewage smacks you in the back of your olifactories and leaves you disoriented in that thin strip of land between beauty and filth. 

Saoirse Ronan On The Street Art!

Stride walked for the 8pm train back to Firenze, got there at 1936 and magically caught the 1934 train - a far more express train (50mins) than the 8pm (1hr 17mins). God loves punctuality and we got over an hour back in Florence.  M got quite exhausted racing around in the extreme heat. M navigated to the leaning tower from station. Turns out we might have over done it in the heat. She’s currently behind me, steeped in electrolytes, topless, eyes rolling getting her mojo back.   

Train. Go. Gone.

 

Home Again Home Again

Fri 8th
Officially a down day for the ladies today and a rare lie-in for them on Le Grand Tour. Nothing except a pre-booked brunch planned, culture on hold, vulture always circling. I opted to get up early anyways and take the morning to run around the place before it got too hot. I woke at 0630, showered in the marble shower corridor and was down in the breakfast room for 7. Sat on that sun-drenched balcony over the Arno taking in the morning. "Light ended the night, but the song remained"

The Arno, The Lungarno, The Americano, The Porridge, The Froo-its (Baginbun: “Get them fuckin' fruits away from me bro”). The sun rising over the Ponte Vecchio. Life is good. Delicious. So fresh and so clean. M joined me about 20mins later. 

 

I did some light research and went wandering visiting notable cafes around Firenze while doing a bit of font spotting on the side. A photo-taking exploratory hike for 2-3 hours in the morning sun, first time without my big Canon rig. Had many conversations with myself around identity, eye, creativity and chaos. M explaining the loss to the girls stated 'It's WHY he travels' and that's probably true. Do I replace and carry on? I remember when my entire CD collection was stolen when I first moved up to Dublin and it took me maybe 5 years to start purchasing music again and music has always been my primary distraction. 

"One of us is a cigar stand"

We speak of flow. We speak of waves. I’ve rarely failed to find flow and ride waves by getting lost in the bustle of a busy city with a camera on my hip in nice light. In Barcelona a week ago, I approached the light of enlightenment. Went out taking photographs as the sun set. Committed to the bit, stationed myself on street corners, got the settings just right and started photographing the human activity as it passed. No rows, no altercations, no one assuming they're in the frame and fighting it. Good gear, good light, tippy-tappy fingers crossed. Let it go. "Cease to resist, giving my goodbye"

Ate-in'

Drinkin' | Cortado @ Ditta Artigianale

First stop on my inaugural Firenze Froth & Fonts was Ditta Artigianale “Florence’s most celebrated third wave café with a hip cosy ambience” a new one on me. A stunningly beautiful, light-filled, art deco spot but WAY too fussy service, thus ruining the vibe entirely. Cortado was average and expensive. I struggled with the cashier to pay for it in advance. Then I said I’d just take it away she told me I would be “allowed” to sit in a corner over there. Table service only apparently. Great example of beautiful concept ruined by shitty rules enforced by over-zealous, untrained staff in a mostly empty space. As a rules-based, demand-avoidant middle aged male, I heard the phrase "fucka-dat-noise-a" reverberating from the heavens, left quickly and moved on. Third wave needs to learn how to surf. 

Now That's A Font

 

Florence is in Tuscany. Rome is in Lazio. Milano is in Lombardy. I love the sound of Ikea beakers. Next spot on my list was Melaleuca Café “a tranquil escape along the Arno, yet still central” 

Tin Foliage

Another activity I love as much for the outcomes as for the goal is picking a spot, whether it be a restaurant, a record shop or, in this case, a café and using the destination specifically to enjoy the journey and the serendipitous discovery of neighbourhoods, squares, churches, passages and intersections of light. 

Uffizi Boat Club

I headed towards the back of the Uffizi, discovering the Uffizi boat club on the way – an exclusively elderly male domain it appears, a serene level below the invading hordes of the Uffizi. 

 

Ate-in' AND Drinkin' | Incroyably Superlative!

Melaleuca Café was stunning – it’s a Melbourne style bakery and café right on the river. One of the best coffees and probably the best croissant I’ve ever had. We’ll leave it at that, but probably be back for breakfast again tomorrow and possibly breakfasts again in the future. 

Firenze. Twinned With Fontstowsn, Kilcullen.

I backtracked along the bridges of the Arno, taking sidequests as they presented themselves e.g. the Chiesa di Ognissanti - a Franciscan church dedicated to all the saints and martyrs, known and unknown. Also the burial place of Botticelli, Amerigo Vespucci AND Napolean’s sister. 

Taddeo Gaddi’s Crucifix?

It had one of the most disturbing crucifixes I’ve ever seen - and we’ve seen mucho disturbing religious iconography on this trip. Jesus had teeth in this one. It was here that I submitted the handwritten intercession for Robin to finger pick the acoustic guitar. I could have requested the fries be put in the bag but that seemed too trivial an intercession request for such an austere environment. 

A Drummer's Intercession To A Verbose Singer

Where vexatious/spoiled intercessions requests go

 

Back to the hotel to freshen up and then off to brunch at La Menagére. Turned into a weird one. A beautiful setting with good food let down by the hospitality. 

Off The Charts Photogenicity

We were told straight out of the gate at 2mins pasty midday, that the brunch menu is finished (!) and the breakfast menu is done also. So you have this extravagant 16 page. oversized "statement menu" and half of it is closed for maintenance. Strike1. I asked for a mojito (day drinking alert) and was told I couldn't have it as advertised on the menu. Strike2 - a bad look for a high end place to balk at the first item requested. 

The waitress took our (large 4 person food and drinks) order confidently without a notebook (never trust a person not taking notes) and proceeded to screw up the drinks the girls ordered as well as their mains order. Strike3. She was vaguely apologetic and all but the lustre was being paintstripped from the place. I did not leave a tip and I never don't leave a tip [except for later this very same evening!]. 

M's Croque Monsieur was very good - hesitated on excellent but she really enjoyed. Said she probably didn't need the chips - whereas my dish benefited from the chips she didn't eat as there was insufficient variety of texture or mopping with what came my way. My filetto di rombo dish (fillet of turbot) was in my top 3 (all dishes of fishes: Barracuda / Tora / La Menagere) ascending slowly from a crawling start to a very solid 8 out of 10. We got some nice photos though and sure isn’t that what it’s mostly about? Bob Dylan's harmonica and Grian Chatten's FEEEEEL. The tunes with components that hit you in the chest - not at all pleasant on their own but which somehow work with the music to produce a jarring but effecting feeling. D says she has a playlist full of them. I’d like to see it. 

 

M had ambitions to purchase a leather bag in Italy, Florence specifically. Her mind's eye was set on a very specific style which no one else could see. We nearly had her with a beautiful tan bag in a leather store up a small alleyway. I’ve been in the market for a new wallet for the past 5 years or so and I was about to begin the haggle. But neither of us took the plunge. Iron Man Lego bust chosen by S in Firenze Lego store as her birthday present. Didn’t know Swarovski Marvel crossovers were a thing. They are, expensively so. 

Cap 'n' Panther

Wicked

Given how excellent the pizza was on our first night here, we returned on a busy Friday evening and had a lesser experience. 

Pizza was again superb. Witness this incredible 48hr Crust.

 

S's Favourite Photo Of The Trip

We’re now on the lookout for best pizza with decent, professional staff. Bellysful of pillowdough and tipless, we exited into the night looking for a place for a night cap on our last night in Florence and we stumbled across the tribey vibeyness of Hotel de la Ville bar – a Wes Anderson orange oasis - on the way back. 

Buzzy Neon “Dark night, neonlight into my house”

I spotted it from the street, glowing lonely in the night. We’ll call the bar “Louche Florange” or maybe “Orange Firenze.” L'Orange Florange seems to have stuck. Like an indoor Tuscan sunset it was. It couldn’t have been more Wes Anderson - the middle words on the large outdoor neon sign buzzing and unlit between the glowing of “Hotel” and “Ville”. 

Louche Florange

 A previously grand hotel slightly down on its luck, its bottom line seemingly terminally flatlined. A large back lobby bar area partitioned out in clusters of oversized, exquisitely designed soft furnishings, most of the them in big orange, amber and orange, or orange with hints of brown, deep pile carpets in similarly crazy hues really set off the orange spirits and citrus spritz behind the bar. 

Completely empty except for a tuxedoed, dimly lit, lifer barman in the corner on the verge of pre-retirement derangement, no eye contact, drinks taking a little bit longer due to the attention to detail. 

Senor Maraschino "I knew it from the first Old Fashioned we were cursed”

Beautiful cocktails - Old Fashioned with cherries  Martinis, Aperol Spritz, Limoncellos all enabled lots of lively conversation as cheeks reddened and tongues loosened. An abandoned grand piano, all but retired, polished and untinkled in the other corner. 

 It was the perfect end-of-an -era hangout spot for a band of louche, travel weary introverts almost at the end of the tour, the tour manager on his final gig before retirement. It also features prominently in our end of trip Grand Tour Awards.

A truly excellent couple of hours chatting, debating, arguing, tricking, bickering in the most well appointed space. Although I suspect the barman shut up shop early partly due to the lack of other customers but partly due to the circular, increasing in volume tricking / bickering going on between the girls about god knows what within his earshot. Done with a lifetime of lubricated bullshit he was. 

Always Trickin'

A timely intervention as we were extra-pleasantly-half-cut leaving. A lovely end to our last evening in Firenze. Favourite city conversations started. Madrid for different (as yet unsolidified) reasons. Rome but for very different reasons, chaotic, romantic, swimming in layered history. Florence for the contradictions, the relaxation despite the hordes. David continues to feature prominently in M's recollection.

Moonlit Nightcap