My husband is passionate about his coffee. At home, he grinds the beans, froths the milk, and enjoys his cup with breakfast. He makes himself an espresso while working from home in the afternoon, but he never drinks coffee after 4.
Zurich airport
Except in Italy.
For the past two weeks, Mike “Sweetie” Francini has enjoyed his coffee fix from Venezia to Roma with Firenze in between. He’s had a cup at the Zurich airport and again in Roma. He consumed small cups of the brew on a train.
When his coffee arrived at the end of a meal or in the company of a luscious pastry, I started documenting the ceremonial downing of each hot brew.
I am a blogger, after all.*
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I learned (about ten minutes ago) that according to ellianos, Italy had its first taste of coffee in the 17th century when the “bustling port city of Venice became one of the first European hubs to import coffee beans from traders of the Ottoman Empire.”
In the late 19th century “Italy introduced espresso to the market. Espresso isn’t a specific type of Italian coffee. Rather, it’s an efficient and concentrated brewing method that can be used on any type of coffee bean. This new Italian method completely changed the way people enjoy coffee around the globe.”
*I prefer tea, which has been my hot beverage of choice my entire life. Dad hailed from England after all and my Nova Scotia-born mum drank instant black coffee. It wasn’t really a choice at all.
Laurie of Notes From the Hinterland reached out earlier today to be sure we were not involved in the tragic bus accident in Venice. Thank you for checking on us, Laurie.
I found the perfect spot to share my age and birthday with a calendar at the Vatican Museum. Since we’re in Rome, I opted for Roman Numerals.
We started the day early with a quick breakfast and a Metro ride to Vatican City. We had tickets for a garden tour, so it was nice to get there before the heat descended.
The gardens show off English, French, and Italian styles, with a long history of donated trees, plants, and sculptures. The fountains are always refreshing, but my favorite is home to red-eared turtles, which we spotted swimming and sunning themselves.
Viewing the Sistine Chapel was the one let-down of the day. We jostled down several flights of stairs before being ushered in and pushed to the center of a room with shoulder-to-shoulder people. Guards kept yelling at us to clear the imaginary aisle of the room, moving us toward the center of a packed room. The limited time we had to try and enjoy and reflect on the magnificent art above felt fleeting. We stood together in that tightly packed, stuffy room, trying to appreciate the grandeur, but my instinct to flee took over, and we exited as quickly as possible.
Mike pictured in the Gallery of Geographic Maps. His father hailed from Rome, but immigrated to Argentina after the war.
Mike at the Vatican MuseumCeiling in the Gallery of Maps
It took another twenty minutes to exit the museum; by then, it was close to three, and we were exhausted.
A quiet sit-down with cold drinks and a shared Margherita pizza steadied the ship. The metro ride back was equally packed, but for that short duration and the welcoming cool air, it all worked well.
We arrived at the hotel with the loveliest surprise: the staff left us a bottle of Prosecco, a pair of glasses, and the nice note below.
I want to share one last thing before we head out to enjoy my birthday dinner and our delicious Prosecco. We ate at the same cafe for lunch and dinner when we arrived in Rome. It’s a stone’s throw from our hotel, so it seemed easier than looking for something else. For the rest of the trip, we’ve tried different places daily. When we returned to our hotel last night, one of the servers recognized me and waved from across the street! Tonight, another server called out to us and waved. I can’t tell you how warm and welcoming it’s been.
We said goodbye to Firenze today as we boarded our train. Getting your bearings in a new place often takes a few days, but we immediately felt at home in Florence.
While great cities are known for their museums and galleries, churches, and historically significant sites, the joy of travel for me is often the unexpected.
One example: I spotted what’s known as a wine window a short walk from our hotel. I snapped a photo, then looked it up and learned that: “They were created as far back as 1559, when Cosimo de’ Medici, the ruler of Florence, allowed wealthy, noble families to sell wine they produced out of their homes.” (via Atlas Obscura).
The Buchette del vino, or little wine doors, proved helpful for a different reason during the plague and adapted again during COVID. Pictured below: Designated wine door, probable wine door, wind door converted into resident names/buzzers, and an artistic rendering of one.
Another delight was an immersive art experience off of the main hall of the Officina Profumo-Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella. A friend recommended this perfumery, which is extraordinary in its own right, but the Blooming in Paradise experience was unexpected. As you enter the room, the rich scent of one of their florals draws you in as slowly changing projections of flowers surround you. Soft music and dim lights enhance the experience and fill your senses. It certainly appealed to my gardening soul.
We loved the profuma-farmaceutica’s rich history and gorgeous buildings. Like many things in Florence, it’s been there for hundreds of years.
One more fun surprise was our bed and breakfast. The building was recently remodeled and decorated in Art Deco themes and prints. Illustrations from Vogue magazine lined the walls, and replicas from the period greeted us when we returned each night.
Art Deco happens to be my favorite style of visual arts and architecture. Mike worried beforehand that he had booked a room too far out of the city. Imagine my delight when we checked in to this charmer for five days instead.
On our way home one evening, we heard a young opera singer in one of the piazzas. A sizable crowd had grown around him. We were fortunate to catch a glimpse and listen to the night’s last two songs.
We had more delicious meals than I can count and many tastes of regional gelato. Mike, a self-proclaimed coffee snob, enjoyed espressos and cafe lattes daily. The service has been spectacular throughout, and most days, we’ve enjoyed our meals outdoors. People-watching never gets old.
Of the “must see in Firenze” list, we toured the Uffizi, which “houses the Italian Renaissance art, featuring works by such masters as Botticelli, Titian, Michelangelo, and da Vinci.”
We spent an evening at the Galleria dell’Accademia: “Europe’s first school of drawing, this museum of art is chiefly famous for its several sculptures by Michelangelo, notably his David, in addition to an extensive collection of 15th- and 16th-century paintings.”
Seeing Michelangelo’s statue of David, a 17-foot masterpiece, has been a lifelong dream since taking art history in university over forty years ago. It’s humbling being in its presence.
We enjoyed a meal in front of the Palazzo Vecchio and again across from Piazza del Duomo.
Sharing narrow streets with intrepid taxi drivers and enthusiastic motorbikes kept us on our toes as we walked between five and seven miles daily.
I will remember the sound of crickets, the hum of humanity, flower boxes, and postcard stands. I haven’t taken one moment of this fantastic trip for granted. I’m so lucky to be here.
On our last full day in Venezia, we took a boat ride to Murano, famous for blown glass, and then on to Burano, an even smaller island known for lace-making.
I’ve seen glassblowing demonstrations before, but not in Italy. Everything is magical in Italy. One glassblower made an intricate vase, and the second shaped a glass horse in minutes. It was a Sunday, so the factory was closed, but we enjoyed ourselves nonetheless.
In addition to lace-making, Burano is known for its colorfully painted houses; the house’s color designates the owner. Once a home is painted blue, for instance, any future buyer has to leave the house blue.
As we crossed one of the piazzas, I stopped to greet this charming pup who thoroughly enjoyed a back scratch. We were both reluctant to part company so soon.
Hugo the dog in Burano
As for this Burano resident, she’s a feline’s feline, so in other words, “get lost.”
Cat in Burano
The boat ride back made me feel young again. We got to sit on the upper deck while the captain played popular tunes from his phone. The guide passed out small plastic cups filled with Prosecco, and it seemed we were all smiling or laughing.
A replica of a galleon sailed by to our delight, and we learned that it is something you can hire for a wedding.
Wedding Boat in the lagoon
After eating and more walking, we returned to our hotel to pack our bags for the following day.
We took a vaporeto (water bus) to catch our train on Monday, landing in Firenze late afternoon. We walked forty minutes with our travel bags through narrow, cobbled streets and crowded courtyards and decided to take a taxi next time. We forgot that we’re in our sixties and not our thirties.
We’re staying in another charming hotel, part apartment building, part small business, and part hotel. Our room is on a “half-floor,” which means we step off the glass elevator on the floor below and then walk up a few steps. I love the large hotel windows that open, letting in fresh air and light. This morning, Mike spotted a neighbor’s cat on the adjacent balcony. I feel right at home.
View from Maison Santa Croce
We lunched on paninis before spending time at the Galleria Uffizi. It was incredible seeing famous artwork in a gorgeous setting; however, an aching back and fatigue got the better of me toward the end. We stopped for refreshments, and now I’m resting at our hotel while Mike ventured out for a new pair of shoes.
My goodness, there is so much more to see and do! Thank you for following along.
While planning our wedding in 1995, we talked about going to Italy for our honeymoon. We came to our senses, knowing how tired we would be, and agreed to travel to Italy another time.
Twenty-eight years later, that time is now. The travel to Europe from San Jose is grueling. We took an Uber to San Francisco International Airport, flew ten hours to Zurich, waited three hours to board a one-hour flight to Venezia, and then took a 40-minute water taxi to Piazza San Marco. We walked, perhaps crawled, to our quaint hotel from there, exhausted yet happy to be here.
This morning, we wandered the narrow streets of Venezia, traversing several bridges as we crossed canals, peering into shop windows, and pausing for refreshments at a cafe. Mid-day, we took a docent-led three-hour tour of the Doge’s Palace and the Basilica San Marco.
I learned so much along the way and thoroughly enjoyed the gorgeous architecture, tiled mosaics, and the fantastic views from virtually every window we passed. We had an engaging and knowledgeable guide. Pictured above: Basilica, tour tickets, Doge’s Palace ceiling covered with painted wood and gold leaf, the Bridge of Sighs, and interior shots of the St. Mark’s Basilica
After the tour, we sat in the Piazza San Marco, listening to live music and amusing ourselves with the antics of the local, dare I say, bold pigeons. The birds landed on tables, on a few straw hats, and wooshed by at close range. One presumptuous pigeon briefly looked up my dress, perhaps waiting for crumbs that never fell. I’m sure the staff have chased off the pigeons many times, and it is clear the restaurants and cafes work hard to keep tables and floors clean. With patrons and small children offering food on the ground, I imagine it’s a lost cause. I kept a close eye on my food and wondered if they, too, were addicted to carbs.
Mike booked a restaurant a month ago so we would have a nice place to celebrate our anniversary. We walked twenty minutes from our hotel to la Zucca, crossing the famous Rialto Bridge over the Grand Canal and pausing to take pictures.
We enjoyed a lovely meal in a charming, cellar-like room, the wooden walls lined with bottled wine and decorative gourds. Fabulous wait staff helped us feel at home, and Mike’s ability to order dinner in Italian added to the evening’s fun.
We shared a pumpkin mousse and vegetable compote, and I savored a vegetarian plate with rice and a glass of crisp white wine. Instead of a restaurant dessert, we opted for gelato on our walk back. All buildings here have a water door and a street door. This is the water door to our restaurant, though we walked in the old-fashioned way. Entering by boat would have been great fun. We walked 7 miles over the day.
Sunday is our last full day in Venezia. On Monday, we board a train for Firenze to see more of this beautiful country. I hope to write more from there. Ciao!
I’m a day late for the monthly scrap-happy share, but I’m popping in any way to say, “cheers.”
If you’ve been following here for a while, you’ll recognize another page from my 2022 Bees & Honey wall calendar. The beautiful images feature in several scrappy projects. I used the heavier-weight cover paper to make eight wine glass tags.
The process is simple: I cut 2.5-inch circles from the calendar images, then cut a smaller circle from the center to go around the stem. Cut an opening along one side, and you’re good to go.
I made eight tags, including one that said “bee,” but I didn’t think it through. When I removed the inner circle, it said BS instead. Whoops. I cut one more, to make a G-rated set, though most of our friends would get a laugh out of the BS story.
Cheers!
If you’re a scrappy maker (paper, fabric, metal, etc.), consider joining us for this enjoyable endeavor.
Thanks as always, Kate. Please follow the links below if you would like to see what the other makers are up to.
The certainty of shorter days and cooler nights is upon us, though our daytime temps remain warm. An uptick in squirrel activity tells me that autumn is coming. California gray squirrels live in trees, and although they don’t hibernate, they build up winter stores for the cooler months.
I harvested several sunflower seed heads and left them on our deck, but getting photos proved elusive. I finally captured a couple of shots last week, one of a squirrel on the sunflower stalk and later in a tree across the street with a mouthful.
This weekend, I spotted another squirrel at the base of the curb garden and managed a few shots. By Sunday night, most of the sunflower stalks had been bent in half, stripped of their seeds, and left for this gardener to clean up.
California gray squirrel eating sunflower seeds
I envy the squirrel’s agility and energy as they hurl themselves from tree branch to roof, then to the back of a narrow bench or railing. This year, I’m counting on them to plant next summer’s sunflower crop. Goodness knows they’ve had their fill.
In other garden news, a few late-season gladiolas popped up through the lavender along the deck. One of my alstroemeria protested its move from pot to pot, eventually throwing in the towel. I took advantage of the real estate and transplanted three or four succulents needing space to expand their roots.
The rock wall is awash with white anemones that have grown quite tall this year, thanks to a good soaking rain this past winter.
They look pretty in glass jars as well.
Anemones, salvia, and nepeta in glass jars.
The first bulb catalogs arrived in the post last week, full of spring promise. Planning a more cohesive planting this fall will be fun; it’s just weeks away. I might try one or two new varieties, but after 27 years of digging in my garden, I’m a realist. It’s too hot for cool-season bulbs, and tulips are like chocolate for squirrels. It’s best to skip the disappointment and plant what works.
Before stepping into a Tuesday meeting, I received two calls from Santa Clara County. A parole officer involved in writing a pre-sentencing report had my name as a contact concerning the fire set at St. Paul’s UMC in June of 2022. I volunteered with Lifted Spirits, serving unhoused women at the time. I called 911 when I smelled smoke, then encountered the man who had just set fire to the church sanctuary. If you’re interested in the whole story, you can read more here, here, and here.
The parole officer asked if I had any comments before the hearing and asked if I would attend. We’re traveling in the weeks leading up to the hearing so I left my comments with her. I said that if our community had a better handle on the unhoused situation and the lack of meaningful mental health care, things like this would be less likely to happen.
I’m not a mental health expert, but it was clear that the man who greeted me in the hallway that day, holding lighters in each hand, was not of sound mind.
I’m somewhat relieved that they charged him with “unlawfully causing a fire” or “reckless burning” instead of arson. He’ll receive a sentence of one year in the county jail plus a referral to the mental health court where he should have been all along. Arson carries a nine-year sentence.
Meanwhile, the church structure sits idle, the Lifted Spirits program is searching again for a new home, and the building will eventually be torn down and hopefully converted into low-income and student housing. St. Paul’s UMC is next to San Jose State University, where affordable housing is scarce, so something good can hopefully come of this.
I’ve been a woman on a mission for several months, clearing out our side yard, updating photo albums, and disposing of unwanted items in our garage and home.
It’s not difficult for me to let things go. I’m sentimental about letters and photographs, but not much else. That said, a few items require negotiations when married and with two sons.
Now that both of my young men have graduated from university and moved into their own space, it’s been a good time to assess. My younger son hung on to wires, cables, electronics, defunct phones, etc., which I knew would never again see the light of day. He willingly went through it on his last visit home, and just like that, 95% went to an e-waste location with just a few treasures remaining. My husband, Mike, is also a “cable guy,” so that apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. We also sorted my son’s backpacking and camping gear and donated a bag of things he’s outgrown. It feels good.
I relocated several of the photos he took in high school from the hallway into his room and had one series of pictures framed and hung over the bed. The photo series spells out SLEEP. Now, I can frame his diploma and graduation photo and put it next to his brother’s in the hallway.
The messiest job involved clearing out the side yard. Since we don’t have a basement or a usable attic, we use this side yard for storage. I have a RubberMade storage container that fits the width of the area, and we’re using it for off-season items.
I consolidated two bins and made room for both in the shed. I passed on two small patio tables and a few planter boxes to a gardening friend, and the remaining items were recycled or tossed. After years of working as a professional organizer, I’ve found ways to dispose of most things responsibly. While I’m happy to give something away, I’m not crazy about adding to the landfill.
Our water tanks also line the side of the house. I hung a piece of upholstery fabric behind a trellis, so this area is camouflaged when we sit on the garden swing.
Next up, the garage. Now that paint stores can color match from a small swatch; it’s no longer necessary to keep back-up paint. Further, I’ve learned from experience that the paint on the walls fades, so touching up a scratch only works for about a year after painting.
Benjamin Moore Paint sells tiny containers in all colors and sheens, about the size of a spice jar so that you can try a small sample with far less waste. I took eight gallons of half-used paint to a local PaintCare site, making room on a lower, more accessible shelf for other items.
With a nod to Swedish death cleaning, I unpacked four small cedar boxes with the cremains of beloved but long-deceased cats. The boxes were difficult to open, part of why I didn’t deal with them in the past, and the accompanying emotions. It didn’t feel right leaving them in a cupboard for my sons to deal with after we’re gone.
One by one, I scattered the cremains of Slinky, Grant, Collar-Collar, and Fluffy on different days and in various areas of the garden.
It’s been an emotional journey but a cleansing one and a gift to myself and the ones I love.
Gardening Nirvana 