2002-02-23 - 4:38 p.m. Airconditioned Nightmare It should come as no surprise that, given my love for food and wine, people always ask me if I�ve been to Italy (yes), followed by "Where was your favorite place in Italy?" To the uninitiated, this sounds like a harmless question, merely brought up as a way to find out more about my interests�but I know better. Whenever someone has asked me this question in the past, there has been an assumption made on the part of the person asking me the question that I will name some charming village in Tuscany, or Florence. In fact, those are never my answers. My favorite place in Italy is Rome. This confession is often met with hostility. "But Rome is so dirty!" they exclaim. Or, worse yet, they shake their heads in disbelief and say "But it�s such a big city." Apparently they forget that I love living in the City. And last time I looked, Rome was a hell of a lot cleaner than Market Street in downtown SF. It�s been months since I was in Italy, yet I still have not written about the rest of my journey�here�s a pass at my travels through Florence. Florence/Firenze After having fallen in love with Rome, I was sad to leave it so soon to board the train to Florence. I paid the extra cash for the first class travel and seat reservation which turned out to be a good thing � the train was crowded and many people were bumped off. I ordered all my train tickets for this trip in advance on a EuroRail Web site. I�m pretty detail oriented when it comes to travel arrangements, so doing this myself and having the train tickets in hand when I landed in Italy kept me from stressing about the transportation. This is well worth the service charge in my opinion. The hour and a half train travel to Florence was beautiful. Looking out the windows, you kept coming upon another old stone house on a hill surrounded by vineyards. It�s easy to see how this area enchants people from around the world and convinces them to chuck the evils or boredom of corporate life to go live in this countryside. After all the hype Florence and its environs had received from everyone I knew, I as prepared to be wowed. The beautiful puffy Magritte clouds hanging in the sky and the beautiful red poppies dotting the fields along the tracks were lovely. The concierge service offered through work helped me find the hotel in Florence. I�d requested they find me a bed and breakfast or a small inn, but, instead, they put me in a hotel that I later read in a guidebook was noted for being "popular with Americans." I realize now this is code for "you don�t want to stay here." This same ever so helpful concierge service had not provided cross streets for the hotel, which normally wouldn�t be a big deal. But, Florence is not your average city. My travel companion and I, following our handy MapEasy map with its drawing of major landmarks and places to eat (which makes life in a new place so much more pleasant), emerged from the tunnel at the train station, and stepped onto a Florentine street�and nearly broke our necks. Cobblestones are awfully slippery when it suddenly starts pouring rain, you see. We headed down the street our hotel was on, got to the place where it should be�but it wasn�t there. My travel companion, already a wee bit wound up from the weather, freaked out. Eventually, I trudged further down the street and saw the hotel�s sign, perhaps 3 blocks from where we�d initially stopped and had our travel anxiety attack. You see, numbers for businesses and numbers for residences go in different directions in Florence. And none of the maps have street numbers. Hence, you always want to know the cross street for where you are planning to go. The hotel concierge placed us in a room on the other side of the espresso bar. The espresso bar where people would sit and drunkenly carouse at midnight; the espresso bar where early-risers would park themselves at 6:30 a.m. I am still not sure why I didn�t ask for a different room rather than tolerate the intrusion of all that noise. This was a far cry from the cozy and beautiful room in Rome. And at over $200 a night, it was upsetting that it was so dark, unadorned, and even a little sad due to its overall shabbiness. We fled our dismal room immediately upon check-in. (NOTE: a weird thing about this hotel is they wouldn�t let you leave with your room key � you had to leave it in a bowl on the counter when you went out.) We hit on one massive stroke of luck: both the Accademia and the Uffizi had improved Sunday hours over what our guide books noted, meaning we had the ability to hit both on our first afternoon in Florence. The line for the Accademia was short (10-15 minutes), but our wait for the Uffizi was 2 hours. Luckily we�d had pizza and gelato (at Il Granduca) before queuing up. Only bummer about the Uffizi is the Caravaggio room was closed � guess I�ll have to buy the book �cuz I�m not going back!! Halfway through our trek through the museum, we stopped at the snack bar and determined nothing there was edible, but the view from the patio was delightful. My travel companion decided to stand on a chair to get a shot of the countryside. Bad idea. The snack bar manager chewed my companion a new asshole for showing such disrespect for the museum and its patrons. "Chairs," the woman said in a measured, disapproving tone, "are for sitting, not standing. Please clean it now." At least she didn't kick us out. Dinner at Giglio Russo on Via del Panzini at Via del Giglio was amazingly tasty. The tortellini rosso crema and ravioli rucolae gorgonzola were the best pasta on the trip by far. I think this was when I got on my mozzarella caprese salad kick. I must�ve had 5 or 6 of these during my two weeks in Italy�I just couldn�t resist those beautiful red tomatoes� This was the night the insomnia set in for me. Luckily, the one amenity of our dreadful hotel was MTV Europe�I must�ve seen Madonna�s "What it Feels Like for a Girl" and the Gorillaz "Clint Eastwood" videos half a dozen times in Florence. The next day it was still raining, so shopping became the main activity. Amazingly, the tastiest cappuccino I had during this trip was at a bar a few blocks from the hotel. I drank it while standing up and eating my breakfast panini ( I liked the one with egg and spinach the best) both mornings I was in Florence. At Pegna (on Via dello Studio between Via del Corso and Via d Bonzinni), I bought half a pound of the most beautiful dried porcini mushrooms I�ve ever seen (these were eaten up within a week of my return to the states.) After the rain stopped for a few minutes, headed to Boboli Gardens, the only place that was open on Monday in all of Florence. OK, I exaggerate � we did finally find a cool wine bar to eat lunch in too. But just about every shop or place of interest was closed. Tuesday�s half day was spent slogging through the rain to the Cappella di Medici which was undergoing serious restoration, wandering through the Mercato Centrale wishing I had access to a stove to cook up a feast made from all the wonderful cured meats, produce, and gourmet treats that filled the stalls. In retrospect, I should�ve loaded up on some salami and cured olives, but I wasn�t thinking ahead. Headed to Vivoli Gelato for a quick lunch, then hopped on the train for Venice where we were meeting up with another travel companion. My Tuscany tales start after Venice. Nothing in Florence, not even the baptistery gates, moved me the way the Pantheon in Rome did. Everything seemed carefully calculated to appeal to the tourist industry. Even the main street from the duomo to the Uffizi was lined with garish mall-type chain stores. I still don�t understand what was so magical about that city to everyone who spoke so wistfully of Florence to me before I went there. For me, it was a crowded, dark, and dismal two-day stop. I should note that, after this debacle, combined with the insomnia, I almost ditched out on my travel companion so I could go back to Rome rather than be similarly disappointed by Venice. Somehow, I was convinced to go. Although it turned out that I loved Venice, it would have been better all around if I�d followed my gut instincts and headed back to Rome, but that�s not a story for these pages. Live and learn. any comments? 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