Riomaggiore (in the Cinque Terre) was mentioned in a previous post. Basically, it's one of 5 hillside villages on the western coast of Italy that have been declared a national park. Yes, it's gorgeous. They are famous for pesto and gnocci. Unfortunately we heard more people speaking English than Italian. So, apparently the secret's out. Sarah and I had a pesto picnic in our hotel room. One of the great things about Europe is buying produce with stems and leaves still attached. I'm fascinated by this. One of the not-great things about Italy is being charged to sit down in a restaurant. This happened at lunch, and then the waitress was cheeky enough to shoo us out right after our meal.
Italy is very different from France. The trains are late. Ticket checkers would rather talk on their cells with signoras than punch your ticket. It's sunny. The rooftops are made with orangey-red tiles. Coffee with foamed milk is superbe. Shops are closed between 12 -3 and then stay open until 8:30. People are more smiley (even though they only wear black and brown).
Florence was great. The Renaissance is everywhere. Our hotel was right next to Dante's house. Brunelleschi's dome was a block away. Art galleries galore. It inspires one's finer side. We feasted chocolate muselix, calzones with the most perfect bread, and tiramisu gelato. We saw David, The Birth of Venus, children trick-or-treating, and two more mullets (tourists).
David is monumental. Chilling. Immediate goosebumps. Michelangelo, thank you.
On the train to Rome, we accidentally rode 1st class. The ticket guy didn't say a word! Benvenuto in Italy.
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