The Final Goodbye

Well, it had to happen eventually. On Monday, May 14, I woke for my last morning in my little apartment in the heart of Florence, gazing one last time out my window over the red tile rooftops of the adjacent buildings.

I took one last shower in my tiny bathroom, complete with a skylight over which birds flew and chirped each day. I then got dressed and ready for the last time in this place that had been my home for over three months. I tried not to think about it too much.

And there's no better way to fight sadness at leaving a place than to have the most wonderful person take you to the airport--my driver and friend, Beppe. Giuseppe Mirossi, better known as Beppe, is the absolute best driver in all of Italy, perhaps in all the world! He took my parents, Pauline, and me on a wonderful tour through Chianti; and later he took Laurie, Brad, Janet, and me on an unforgettable wine tasting excursion. I knew there was no other way that I wanted to get to the airport on my last day than in Beppe's trusty van.

I had arranged for Beppe to pick me up around 7:30 that morning so that I could get to the airport on time. And he was there right on the dot! I had already carried one of my four suitcases down the four flights of stairs when he arrived, an act he promptly scolded me for. "Carolina, you should not carry your bags down these stairs. I will do it for you." He then followed me up the stairs, insisting that he would bring the rest down. Yes, I let him! And as he went up and down the stairs, I took one last walk through my apartment, my home, taking it all in for a final time.

And then I placed my keys on the entryway shelf, where they would be waiting for the next person lucky enough to inhabit this perfect apartment, and I closed my door for the last time. And 54 steps later, I was down to ground level, and I exited Via dei Magazzini 6 for good.

And there was poor Beppe, struggling to load my extremely heavy luggage into the back of his van!

The ride to Amerigo Vespucci, Aeroporto di Firenze was uneventful. Excitement had now taken over sadness as I realized that that very night I would be sleeping in my own bed, next to my husband whom I've missed so much. I couldn't wait! Beppe and I talked about Florence and San Francisco, a place he would love to visit one day. And before we knew it, we were pulling up out front of the airport.

Again, the gentleman that he is, Beppe insisted on not only unloading my luggage and placing it on a cart, but on walking inside the airport with me. He said, "Carolina, I will be coming with you, into the airport, not to San Francisco. After all, you are married, so what would be the point?" Once again, Beppe used his considerable charm to put a huge smile on my face!

Once we were inside, I insisted that I was okay and that he could leave me. (He had another party to pick up soon.) We said our goodbyes, but I know I'll see him again. He's my driver for life!

Now it was time to check in, which didn't go as smoothly as planned. There was some confusion about my ticket, and I was instructed to stand in another line, one that was excruciatingly slow. It didn't help that there was an American couple in front of me whose flight to New York City had been canceled. They had been rebooked on another flight but weren't happy with it, and they refused to leave the window until the representative had checked probably every flight out of Florence, through every connecting city imaginable. Finally it was my turn, and my problem, thankfully, was solved right away. As instructed, I returned to the first counter, bypassing the line. As I approached the original agent who had helped me, and who had told me that I didn't have to wait in line again, there was an uproar in the line behind me. A large older man, another American at that, began yelling and cursing at me about "cutting in line." I tried to explain that I had already waited in line and was simply doing as the agent instructed. He wasn't buying any of it, keeping up his constant, loud yelling, much to the embarrassment of his wife, who was standing meekly beside him.

The agent did nothing to assist me; instead, she just looked at me and rolled her eyes at the absurdity of it all. There's no wonder that the "Ugly American" image persists! Finally, I was all checked in, my luggage was rolling down the conveyor belt, and I could leave my new American "friend" behind. I did, though, happen to hear the conversation as he went to the counter. "I'm sorry, sir, but it's too early for you to check in for your flight. You'll have to come back later." Was this the truth, or a sweet revenge tactic on the part of the agent? Either way, I walked away thinking, "There really is poetic justice in this world."

About an hour later I boarded my flight to Frankfurt, where I would transfer to another flight that would take me nonstop to San Francisco. I had about a three-hour layover in Frankfurt, so I decided to have an early lunch there, one last German meal of bratwurst and sauerkraut. Marvelous, even in an airport. I then made my way toward my gate, which was located in another terminal. When I entered that terminal, I turned a corner and there I was at a bank of windows, each one manned by a very serious looking customs agent. This was completely unexpected. You see, I was a little bit worried about going through customs because I had overstayed my 90-day limit in a Schengen State by 16 days. And suddenly here I was. There was no turning back now!

I approached one of the windows, hoping for a kind agent, and handed him my passport. He flipped through it, he studied it carefully, and a frown came over his face. "Where are you coming from?" he asked. "Florence." "How long were you there?" "A little over three months," I replied honestly. "Yes, I see that." He studied my passport some more, reached for his stamp, and brought it down on my passport. Thank, God! "Okay," he said as he handed my passport back to me. I was through!

Ahead of me was a seemingly endless corridor leading down the the gate area for international flights. Because I hadn't left the airport, I was surprised to come to another security check. I place my carryon bag and purse on the conveyor belt to be x-rayed, and and walked through the x-ray contraption myself. Of course, it went off madly! I was instructed to walk back through. Again, bells and red lights flashing. I was then told to step over to a special area, where an agent ran a wand up and down my body. It began beeping when it reached my feet. Oh, no, they probably thought they had another shoe bomber on their hands! I was then told to remove my boots (my hot new white cowboy boots that I had bought in Florence!). I did so readily. The boots were wanded and came through clean, but not so for my feet. Again, the beeping began. The agent looked puzzled, and then suddenly it hit me! "Toe rings," I exclaimed. The agent still looked puzzled and said, "I don't understand." So I removed one of my socks, showing her three silver toe rings I wear. "Oh," and she started laughing. Now she passed me through.

But I wasn't through yet. You see, I had forgotten that I had purchased a bottle of iced tea in Florence, which I had put in my carryon bag. And while all of the foot business was going on, the agent x-raying my bag had found it. I told her that I had forgotten about it and to just throw it away. "No problem," she said. Finally, finally I made it through. Well, almost... I had to go through one more security check at the gate, where my boarding pass and passport and were again scrutinized. I'll have to say that I was actually quite impressed with the level of security in Germany, something that's greatly appreciate when you're about to board a cross-Atlantic flight.

I settled into a seat in the waiting area and decided to kill my remaining cell phone minutes as they would be no good in the States. I then read until my flight started boarding. The plane had a 2-5-2 configuration, and I was seated by the window next to a woman from India, with her two young daughters in the seats in front of us. They had already been flying for over ten hours and were exhausted but looking forward to their first trip to San Francisco. I played tour guide for a while, tellling them about must-see spots, and her daughters wrote poems and drew pictures for me. They were delightful!

At one point during the trip I looked out my window to see an amazing sight--snow-covered Greenland, an expanse of frozen white. Wow!

And, before I knew it, we were making our approach to SFO. I was ecstatic beyond description. I collected my luggage, made it through customs, and walked down the long hallway out to the area where I knew my husband would be waiting for me. I was home...

Some Random Thoughts VII

1. Harry’s Bar. The very name conjures up images of expatriates, Bellinis, and hoards of artists and writers. Imagine my surprise when I learned that Florence has its own Harry’s Bar. I learned about it in the English-language newspaper The Florentine, which comes out every other week. This particular column recommends “Family Restaurants,” and the description for Harry’s read as follows: “Harry’s Bar is a very special place—an elegant American bar with an international crowd and a sophisticated menu.” I figured, though, since it was being touted as a family restaurant, that it would be affordable. So I headed over for lunch one day. And there I found on the menu a hamburger for 19 euros (approximately $25), not to mention the 5 euro coperto (cover charge) and the drink I would need to go along with it. Yikes! I walked right out and headed somewhere where I wouldn’t have to take out a loan to have a meal!

2. The first week I was in Florence, I spent a lot of time exploring the neighborhood. One day, on the other side of the Ponte Vecchio, I spotted a movie theatre on the other side of the street. I love a good movie, and this was the first theatre I had seen. So I dodged traffic to cross over to see what was playing. I guess I should have noticed that “X” on the sign out front, but I didn’t become aware of just what kind of theatre this was until I saw the billboard for the “film” that was showing. I glanced quickly around, hoping that some early arriving student wasn’t walking by at that moment (Ms. Seefer, what are YOU doing here?) and then I got the heck out of there!

3. I came upon this kebab shop near the San Lorenzo Market. Does the name of this kebab shop really tempt one to come inside? Think about it!

4. Billboards abound in Florence and other European cities, and often they contain subject matter that we just would never see in the United States. Take, for example, this one I spotted in Mittenwald, Germany.

5. Yes, Elvis is alive and well in Florence! I first spotted him on one of my treks to the Post Office to mail a package home. There he was, black pants, a black shirt covered with Elvis buttons, a pack of cigarettes peeking out of his pocket, large sunglasses, a black greased pompadour, a silk scarf around his neck, a big metal belt with chains, black boots, and a guitar case slung over his back. And here’s the kicker—he spoke Italian! I wanted so badly to take his picture, but it didn’t seem appropriate given the setting. But two days later, I spotted him walking right by my front door! I asked him if I could take his photo, and he agreed, giving me a big Elvis smile. And then, three days after that, I was attending the 155th anniversary celebration of the state police, being held in Piazza della Signoria. And who should I see in the crowd? You guessed it—Elvis!

6. And here she is, an English Bulldog hanging out in Florence! Maria is just three months old and absolutely adorable. Go Dawgs!

7. The first time (come to think of it, the only time) that Toni came to my apartment, we went right up to my rooftop terrace. I couldn’t wait to show off the views. Toni looked down over the Palazzo Vecchio and Piazza della Signoria and immediately said, “You’ve got a great view of Neptune’s butt.” So, here's the view from my terrace. Now let's zoom in a bit. You know, she’s got a point!

Firenze Dopo Gli Studenti

I stayed on in Florence for about a week after the students left, and things just weren’t the same. The streets, even though they were teeming with people, seemed somehow empty. Early in the week, the AIFS staff moved their offices out of the building on the Piazza della Repubblica, so even my home base was suddenly gone. I was alone.

I walked the streets of Florence a lot during that last week. Interestingly, new groups of students appeared, presumably to take part in summer study abroad programs. But they weren’t our students, and that made all the difference.

On Wednesday I was walking near the school and was overjoyed to run into one of our students, Maria Christina, who had stayed on in Florence for a few days. She too noted how empty the streets seemed without her friends and classmates around.


I figured that she would be the last student I would see in Florence, but I was wrong. On my last day in Florence, Sunday, May 13, I was walking in the Santa Spirito neighborhood, on the other side of the Arno. And on some back street, I just happened to run into Jason and Amelia. So it’s official—you two are the last students I saw in Florence. Enjoy your final days in our magical city!

Lifelong Friends

There’s something about Laurie! Before I talk about all of the wonderful things we did when she visited me in Florence, I must first introduce you. Laurie and I first met in the first grade, when we were six years old. We were both in Miss Lafferty’s class at Lakeshore Elementary in Rochester, New York. From the moment we met, something clicked. We became inseparable! Kids had a lot more freedom in those carefree days of the 1960s, and we had the run of the neighborhood. We made countless treks between our two houses, where we played games, listened to music (favoring, at that time, Bobby Sherman and the Partridge Family), caused some mischief, and terrorized my little sister. We played in the snow, rode bikes, hiked along the local creek, and explored every nook and cranny of our neighborhood. Life was good! That is, until tragedy struck in the form of my father’s being transferred 3,000 mile away to San Francisco. We were to move in June 1972, at the end of our fourth grade year.

Laurie and I cried, we hugged, and we vowed to remain friends forever. And here we are, thirty-five years after my family moved cross country, still dear friends. And in those days, it was much harder to do. You see, these were the days before e-mail and cell phones. Calling long distance was so expensive that it was strictly prohibited by our parents. We had just one tool we could use to stay in touch: writing. And write we did; countless letters passed back and forth across the country, letters the two of us have saved. In them you see two girls growing up, from childhood, into adolescence, into those teenage years, and finally into adulthood. We followed each other's escapades through junior high, high school, and college, all in writing. We sent each other pictures so that we could see one another grow. We visited each other once or twice on trips with our parents, but that was rare since we were so far apart. It was the writing that kept our friendship going.

We saw each other, albeit at a distance, through good and bad. We supported one another always. And somehow we both turned out to be eerily alike. We are both teachers, and we both have an enormous enthusiasm for life and for getting all we can out of it. During the past several years, we have been fortunate enough to have seen each other a few times during Laurie’s work-related trips to San Francisco. And in between her visits, we have what we call “Wine Chats,” conversation over a glass from a bottle of the same wine, usually from Vin Nostro or Chateau Julien, two wine clubs we both belong to.

So during one of those wine chats, when I told Laurie that was going to be teaching in Florence, the first thing she said was, “I’m coming to visit you!” And a year and half later, she really made that happen!

Laurie and her husband Brad arrived in Florence on Thursday, May 3, the day before the students left. Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect as there’s no better cure for the sadness I was feeling about the program coming to an end than a dose of Laurie! The plan was that she was to call when she was boarding her train and I was to meet the two of them at the train station. I was at the school when my cell phone rang. Laurie said they were boarding a 15:30 train that would get them in around 17:00. She was in a big hurry to make this train, so we hung up quickly. And right away I thought she had the arrival time wrong. So I went on the Trenitalia site to check and, sure enough, found out that her train would get in at 18:30 instead. Or so I thought. You see, Laurie and Brad had been in Italy since Sunday and were traveling around before coming to Florence. I thought that they were coming directly from Venice, a three-hour train ride away, but instead they were coming from Rome, a one-and-a-half hour train ride away.

Imagine my surprise when my cell phone rang a little after 17:00 and it was Laurie calling from the Santa Maria Novella station, wondering where I was! I quickly figured out what had happened and rushed out the door. Luckily the train station is just a short walk from the school, so I arrived about 15 minutes later. Sorry, Laurie and Brad! Well, we just laughed about it, hoping that it wouldn’t foreshadow the rest of their time in Florence.

The first thing we did was walk to their hotel, the Globus Hotel, near San Lorenzo. They checked in, dropped their stuff off in their room, freshened up a bit, and we were off! We decided to have dinner at my favorite wine bar, Conquinarius. And what better way to begin our dinner than with a Bellini! We had fabulous food and wine, and after dinner we decided to walk around a bit.

I just knew I had to take them to the famous boar in Mercato Nuovo. Here they rubbed the boar’s nose in the hopes that they will return to Florence one day.

Our next stop was Caffé Rivoire in Piazza della Signoria. Our intention was to have a real Italian macchiato. The only macchiato that Laurie had ever had was a Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks, so she was in for a treat. But then we spotted the Absinthe behind the bar. Absinthe is a famous green-colored anise-flavored spirit that is derived from a plant called wormwood. Its greatest popularity was in Paris during the late 1900s and early 1900s when many writers and artists made it their drink of choice in cafes across the city. Hemingway was just one of those writers. This is also where absinthe got its bad reputation as an addictive, psychoactive drink, causing it to be banned in the United States. It’s still banned in the U.S. today, although it’s still served elsewhere in the world. Well, we just had to try it! And what better place than the famous Caffé Rivoire?

Well, it turned out to be the perfect place, and the bartender made quite a show of preparing the one absinthe that the three of us planned to share. He first laid a sugar cube on a silver contraption over the top of the class. He then poured the absinthe over the sugar cube, where it soaked the cube on the way into the class. And then, with a flourish he lit the cube on fire! What a spectacle! Everyone around the bar watched and enjoyed, as did we. Finally the drink was ready for consumption, served with a glass of cold water on the side to dilute it. The bartender, quite proud of himself at this point, used two hands to slide the still-flaming drink across the bar to us. We all tried a sip, and I must admit that none of us experienced a hallucination!

After our absinthe and macchiatos, we decided to go to my apartment, which is right around the corner. We ended our evening with Vin Santo (another first for Laurie) on my rooftop terrace. What a glorious first night in Florence for Laurie and Brad!

And the next day would be even better! I picked Laurie and Brad up at their hotel and we walked to the train station, where we were to meet Beppe, driver extraordinaire. Janet also joined us, and we all hopped in Beppe’s van for a trip to the wine country! (You might recall that Beppe also took my parents and I to the wine country when they were in Florence. He’s such a fantastic guy!) As we left Florence, it was pouring down rain. In fact, Beppe even asked us if we still wanted to go. Of course we did! In fact, we figured that the rain would make the wine country even more magical. And we were right! The leaves glimmered with wetness, the dark clouds added a haunting quality to the sky, and the sound of rain on the roof was like music.

Our first stop was Casa Emma, a winery in the Chianti region of Tuscany. This winery produces Chianti, Vin Santo, olive oil, and vinegars. We began with a tour of the winery, where our guide Laura walked us through the entire production process, answering all of our questions.

By the end of the tour, the rain had let up so that we were able to walk around the beautiful grounds. Terra cotta pots spilling over with flowers, acres of vineyards, and olive trees delighted us. But we were ready for some tasting!

So Laura led us into the tasting room where we were able to taste four of Casa Emma’s wines, as well as the olive oil. One thing that makes wine tasting in Italy so special is that all tastings are private. We’ve grown so used to fighting crowds in Napa and Sonoma. It’s not like that in Italy. You can’t just drive from winery to winery as you can at home; instead, you must be with a guide or driver, who arranges tastings ahead of time. And it’s considered uncouth to visit more than two wineries in a day. After all, how can you really appreciate a wine if you’ve already tasted at ten other wineries?

Anyway, we loved the wine at Casa Emma, and Laurie and Janet both purchased quite a bit to have shipped home. I, on the other hand, satisfied myself with a stopper and a plate. (Chip would be proud!) I did this because it’s very expensive to ship wine back to the U.S.: 150 euros a case, in addition to the cost of the wine. Yikes!

After leaving Casa Emma, Beppe drove us through the beautiful Chianti countryside toward our next destination: Tenuta Torciano. Along the way, Janet asked whether olive tree leaves have any scent. No sooner had she asked than Beppe pulled over, rolled down her window, and said, “Check for yourself.” (The answer is “not really.”)

Anyway, Tenuta Torciano is a winery near San Gimignano in the Chianti region that has been in operation since 1720. Here we were able to taste an amazing ten wines, accompanied by a light lunch of antipasti and lasagna. What a treat! The proprietor was a real character, cracking lots of jokes along the way, and even hitting on Laurie!

After tasting and enjoying our lunch, we walked the beautiful grounds, and we even made friends with a couple of cats! Laurie sort of summed it up here: “This is so perfect!”

Now it was time for some coffee. So Beppe took off down some back roads toward the town of Montefioralle in the Greve in Chianti region. Along the way that back road turned into an unpaved road, rewarding us with some of the most spectacular scenery we’d seen all day: remote villages, stone towers, acres of vineyards, stone walls, all framed with gorgeous cloud banks. And, yes, even a rainbow!

When we reached Montefioralle, Beppe parked right in front of a small artist gallery, Galleria Civetta, run by Khostow Salehi. We immediately fell in love with his work, watercolors of the area, and Laurie and I both gave him some business, right as he was getting ready to close up his shop!

We then walked next door to the Caffé le Logge (yes, the same name as the place I go every morning for my coffee!) and had some espresso, Beppe’s treat!

Well, you think that after such a long day that we’d be ready to go home and get some sleep, but not us! Instead, Beppe dropped us off at Janet’s apartment, the palazzo on Piazza Santa Croce, and we were both eager for Laurie and Brad to see it. When we left Casa Emma earlier that day, Laura had given us a free bottle of Chianti “to enjoy tonight.” So we opened it and toasted to a wonderful day!

And then it was time for dinner! Janet took us next door to one of her favorite restaurants, Enoteca Boccadama, where we proceeded to have a wonderful meal by candlelight. Somehow I think Laurie and Brad enjoyed their first full day in Florence!

The next day, Saturday, May 5, Laurie and Brad had a booked tour at the Accademia, so we arranged to meet at Janet’s apartment after it was over. Janet wasn’t able to join us for the day, so Laurie, Brad, and I set off. We cut over so that we could walk along the Arno. The sky was filled with the most beautiful fluffy white clouds I’ve ever seen, all against a backdrop of brilliant blue. Everything looked like a painting! We admired San Miniato, sitting high atop a high across the Arno as we made our way toward the Ponte Vecchio.

Once we hit the Ponte Vecchio, Laurie was in heaven. You see, she loves jewelry, especially gold jewelry, and there’s no better place for that than the shops lining the Ponte Vecchio. She selected a gorgeous gold cross inlaid with semiprecious stones, a piece that will always remind her of her time in Florence.

All that shopping worked up an appetite, so we headed across the bridge to the Golden View Open Bar, a place I’ve given quite a bit of business over the past three months! We were seated at a table right on the water, overlooking the Arno and the Ponte Vecchio, with geraniums bursting out of the window boxes, framing our views. And our meal was fabulous! Along with a bottle of Chianti, we had a pecorino plate, followed with pasta. Laurie had her first Italian gnocchi and loved it!

And Brad was in heaven! I mean, what’s not to love? A big piping hot bowl of ribollita, a tasty pizza, and a waitress who looks like Cameron Diaz! Life is good!

As we dined, the sky put on a show for us. Huge dark clouds began to roll in, making the buildings lining the Arno seem to glow. The winds grew stronger as the storm approached.

But somehow it held off, allowing us to enjoy our walk back over the Ponte Vecchio after lunch.

When we reached the other side, we took some time to enjoy Piazza della Signoria and the marvelous statues situated throughout: a copy of Michelangelo’s David, a bronze statue of Cosimo Medici by Giambologna, the Fountain of Neptune by Bartolomeo Ammannati, a copy of Judith and Holofernes by Donatello, the Rape of the Sabine Women by Giambologna, and Cellini’s Perseus With the Head of Medusa, among others.

We even found the exact spot where Savonarola was burned on May 23, 1498,, ironically after his Bonfire of the Vanities took place earlier in the same square. During the Bonfire of the Vanities, countless works of art, books, articles of clothing, and pieces of jewelry were burned, all in Savonarola’s attempt to clean up the decadence of Florence. I guess his followers finally wised up to how crazy he was, giving him a dose of his own medicine!

After exploring the piazza, it was time for one last visit to my rooftop terrace for a final look over the monuments of Florence. And then it was time to say goodbye. Laurie and Brad had a plane to London to catch early that evening. So I walked them back to their hotel, where they picked up their things. And we said our goodbyes out front. Oh, I hated to say goodbye. You see, Laurie and Brad live in Kentucky, so we don’t get to see each other much. But as Laurie and I said goodbye, with tears in our eyes, we did so with the knowledge that our friendship is one that will last a lifetime. And we’re so grateful that we were able to experience Florence together. We’ll be sharing our memories of these three days for a long, long time!