Venturing Across the Arno

Back to language class at nine, this time Bill and Anahi shake things up by suggesting Pasticceria Ciapetti across the street, rather than our old standby on the corner. A cappuccino e cornetto di cioccolato for breakfast provided ample fuel for the day’s lesson on prepositions. Fairly straightforward until meeting up with a definite article, these simple words burst into seemingly endless permutations based on context, as well as the gender and first letter of the word that follows. Mio Dio! Thankfully, the cultural portion of the lesson was a short excursion to a gelateria, which made everything better.

After another coffee at our new favorite spot, the others took a cab to Palazzo Pitti while I met up with the tour group at Piazza della Repubblica. As we approached Ponte Vecchio, the number of people seemed to multiply exponentially, so I took up the rear to make sure nobody got lost on our way to Ristorante Pitti Botteghina for lunch.

Serving a huge, fresh salad followed by an extra melty Italian version of grilled cheese, it was a perfect midday meal.

Most of the group was heading to Palazzo Pitti for the next installment of the Art and Architecture track. Susi and I hadn’t signed up for that and decided to roam around in an area that was largely unexplored. Looking on my phone for what was in the area, I realized one of the hat shops I wanted to browse to replace the cheap import I bought in the first few days was a few doors down.

The window display of Atelier Antonio Gatto featured a number of elegant, classy designs for women. Upon entering the narrow shop I wasn’t sure what to expect. I poked around for maybe a minute before being greeted with a warm smile from Antonio. He reminded me of Robin Williams, not as much in appearance but in the sense of exuding joy. He was just super welcoming and friendly—a genuinely kind person, passionate about what he creates for his clients.

We shared a bit about ourselves before he asked what I was looking for. A fabulous fedora with a silk band called my name. Instantly sizing me up, Antonio said “you’re a size eight, but this one is a seven.” He placed it on my head and nodded to confirm his assessment. The brim was quite narrow so I asked about other options that would provide better sun protection in the Sonoran desert I call home. Nessun problema! Alterations will take a few days and after giving me his business card, tells me to come back Sunday afternoon around four-thirty. I was so excited to find exactly what I was looking for!

On our way back towards Ponte Vecchio, Susi and I took a quick diversion down Via de’ Bardi. We weren’t looking for anything in particular, just letting our feet carry us wherever desire pointed. The road led to a spot overlooking the Arno, right across from the Uffizi. After a few minutes of taking in the view and relative quiet, we moved on. The second pass by a leather shop with only a sign advertising “saldi,” pulled me in.

During summer, I only like to wear flip-flops or boat shoes. You can ask my cousins, but I have a weird hang-up about how most sneakers or hiking shoes look with shorts. It’s a thing. But, a nice pair of Italian loafers would be an excellent complement and provide another fashionable option. Well, stylish Italians generally don’t wear shorts, which avoids the whole dilemma in the first place, but that’s beside the point. After trying them on and hearing the sale price, I walked out with a pair in tan and another in black for less than I would have paid for a single pair in the US. Plus, these will last a heck of a lot longer.

We continued meandering down several back streets before crossing over Ponte Santa Trinita, which accommodated traffic but was far less crowded. As we made our way towards the tram, a guy approached us asking for the time. He started chatting us up while pushing “gifts” into our hands. Small trinkets at first, then a couple belts before he asked what we could spare. After I offered the few one euro coins I had on me, he said that wasn’t a whole lot to bring back to his twin children. He wasn’t threatening or anything, just trying to eke out a living. After handing back the offerings and gesturing to keep what I had given him, Susi finally said “let’s go!” and pulled me away.

Once we reached the Duomo, it was time for a short reprieve at Move On, with a spritz for me and water for each of us. The temperature had dropped significantly compared to the first week and with a light breeze, sitting outside mid-afternoon was a pleasure. Susi had gone rogue a few times, venturing off on her own, so our conversation centered around those adventures. She had gone to Padua, one of the side quests I had in mind, and it was interesting to hear her thoughts. With some clouds moving in, we agreed it was time to head home and took the tram back to PopArtment.

At this point, I was woefully out of wine and walked to the now familiar shop on Piazza San Jacopino. Closed during the typical break Italians take for lunch and family time in the middle of the day, it would reopen at four thirty. I had about an hour to kill and didn’t feel like sitting in my room.

Chris had mentioned the bar at Yellow Square as a fun and lively atmosphere, so I went to check it out. While ordering, a pack of college-aged kids bustled excitedly about the lobby. I was not vibing with the giddy twenty-somethings scene and retreated to my table outside. Bartenders were friendly and the spritz was pretty good, though I definitely felt a bit awkward to be reliving dorm life at fifty.

A few minutes before the wine shop would be opening up, I walked back to the piazza. At four forty, it was still closed! I actually love that about Italy. Another family-run business and seeing a customer waiting, the son came jaunting over from across the square. I picked up a bottle of one of the varietals from Monsanto we had sampled earlier in the trip along with another from Montepulciano.

The remainder of the evening was quiet and to myself. Perfetto!