Carnac the Magnificent

I love prehistoric traces, and Bretagne is full of dolmens, menhirs and burial sites. Ira and I drove to Carnac today to see some of the more complicated structures. Even on the way, we'd see the occasional standing stone, but over the centuries, you're never sure if they are in their original place or they had been moved.

The drive was long and lovely, about two hours through mostly back roads. Northern France is such rich countryside, crop yields look good and the cows seem fat and happy. And the villages certainly seem to have money, as the houses are all neatly maintained.

Just outside of Carnac lie Les Alignements, a massive grouping of standing stones in rough rows that cover acre after acre. Ira and I walked around one if there extant fields, you can't walk among them during the busy season because they are worried about soil damage. If you show up in winter, you can traipse among them. There were certainly plenty of people there today, though not the crush there might be on a sunny weekend day.

I loved just wandering by, admiring the size of the site. It continues for another kilometer or so, but we didn't visit that until after lunch.

We ate at The Magic Potion in the city of Carnac itself. It was on the second story, and we sat out on the patio soaking up the warm sunshine and eating terrific food, I had a galette with sardines in a Kharkiv and parsley sauce. Ira had one with anchovies, tomatoes and cheese, almost like a crepe pizza. Both were perfect. The galette has such a wonderful texture!

My dessert was excellent, a crepe with apples cooked in butter and mixed with a currant jam. Ira had the ice cream and fell in love. He said it's the best he's had in a long time, which is high praise for someone who eats ice cream in a daily basis. He thought if bringing the waiter over and setting him up with a shop. I remarked that he probably didn't actually make the stuff, and that perhaps Ira was being confused by a pair of blue blue eyes.

After lunch, we drove to Locmariaquer, where there is a magnificent collection of megaliths. First is the biggest prehistoric standing stone, no longer standing. It's broken into four pieces. Next is the Merchant's Table, which is a group of standing stones now covered by a tumulus or grouping of small rocks. The tumulus is a reconstruction. It's great to be able to walk inside and see the shallow engravings in the rocks. You have to duck REALLY low to get through the doorway.

After our fill of antiquity, we drove back home, had a quick period of relaxation, then went out to dinner. We chose l'Ami Louis again, and it was still superb. I started with foie gras as an appetizer, and it was so rich and creamy I want to hug every goose I come across. Ira had the before that I had three days ago, the raw scallops.

He again had the fish shout, while I tried the brochettes de lottes. Yes, more monkfish, this time served with vegetables and a creamy sauce. Itwas perfect. I hope they have monkfish in the US. Ugly creatures, but so tasty!

I am ready to call it a night. Dinan tomorrow. Not much driving, but more walking.

Emerald Coast

There's a bakery in town where we tried the couign amman, a Breton specialty that we tried in Paris and that was one of the reasons we came here! Both Ira and I were unimpressed. It seemed a bit tough. Luckily, we went back this morning and had an apple pastry that might have been the best I've ever eaten. We shared one, then immediately went back for another. It was so light and flaky and yet contained so much butter that it must be breaking a law of physics somehow.

We finally had some sustained sunshine, and it was the perfect time for a drive along the Emerald Coast. We started in Dinard, didn't get out of the car but circled the town on the sea side. Just north of town, we pulled over and strolled through a nature area with high growth on either side of the path. From time to time a vista would open up. The lighting was good, so I took a few of Ira.

We continued driving along the sea, occasionally driving through villages and sometimes trending inland through fields of corn, with pastures filled with brindled cows and shaggy sheep with horns that curved back from their heads.

We made for Cap Frehel, a large natural area with wild vistas and acres of dense brush and heather. The sun was shining and the colors of the terrain were brushed with purple, yellow and dull red. The lighthouse at the point was built in 1950 in a stern but still wonderful style. I clambered up the steps for a high view while Ira kept his feet on the ground. 

The cliffs had a red tinge, which contrasted marvelously with the light blue waters. H sky was filled with blue and white clouds massed along the horizon. The wind at the top of the tower was fresh, and I felt a little breathless gazing north, trying to see the islands just out of eyesight.

We continued our drive and ended up on St. Brieuc for lunch. We hit some traffic because of construction, but we found a parking spot in the centre vile and sat down for a lovely meal of galettes at Le Ribeault. Ira had one with chèvre and a side salad tossed in top. I had one with scallops, shrimp and leeks in cream sauce. Luckily, I had a petit pichet of muscadet to cut the richness. We shared a dessert crepes made with the groseilles and it was marvelously tart, with butter and chantilly.

After that, it was just a case of getting out of town while avoiding the jam. We're getting good at traffic circles and routes! Now we're resting until dinner. More to come...

Breizh is Bretagne for Brittany

One of the reasons we are in Brittany is because of our experience at Breizh Cafe in Paris a few years back. We ate buckwheat crepes and fell in love with them. Since the restaurant has outposts in Paris, Tokyo and Cancale, we decided to pay them a visit on this trip in the homeland.

Bretagne has its own culture and language. At one point it was culturally a close to England. It's French name, Grand Bretagne, makes this clear. The Arthurian legends come from Bretagne lays or poems. So Breizh--roughly pronounced "brights"--is how you say the region's name in its own language.

First off the bat, we drove close to Mont St. Michel. Neither Ira nor I wanted to visit as there's just too many people there, but we wanted to eyeball it and that we did, both from the main parking area and from the road as we drove to Cancale. It's wonderful just as shape and sculpture.

We drove the small roads to our lunch spot, with Ira navigating, through lush countryside filed with small villages and cows and crops. There was some type of cabbage or kale that was planted in great quantities. 

We missed the first turnoff for the Port de Cancale, which is what we wanted, and drive through the center of town, typically Breton with narrow streets and winding routes. We quickly reoriented and made our way down to the bay's edge. It was low tide, so the first surprise was to see all of the boats sitting in mud. At high tide, they all rise with the seawater, a cycle that repeats itself every six hours or so.

We found Breizh Cafe more by luch than anything else, it was raining at the time and Ira and I only brought one umbrella, so to come unawares into our destination was a pleasant surprise.

Our waiter was a mutt. We chatted with him once the lunch rush wound down (and he dealt with an emergency call to their telecommunications register system, which was down). His mother was Irish, his father half French from Indochina and half black from Africa. He spoke both English and French at home and had an accent in both. He was charming... But we're not here to talk about people...

We started with a round dozen of local oysters, full of their salty liquor, and so tender in hue he tongue.

The buckwheat crepe or galette (ble de noir) is savory and altogether amazing. It's edges crisp and almost trellised, the center soaking up the contents, in my case onions and ham and egg and for Ira, ham, egg and mushrooms. I must learn how to make these. It'll be a winter project.

Ira and I split the chocolate crepe for dessert, a decision that Ira regretted and brought up over the course of the afternoon as we wended our way back home, along the Emerald Coast. We stopped at Pointe du Grouin, where the color of the water was so amazingly green. Not in the photos of course, as the sun hid whenever I got out of the car! Trust me it was magnificent, and we'll be along the coast a bit further west tomorrow, so maybe I'll catch it in pixels then.

Driving through St. Malo, both Ira and I loved the industrial port area. It looked designed and chic in great and yellow with futuristic cranes and groupings of building that had their own mass and symmetry.

Then, we plunged in country and drove along the western edge of the Rance, capturing views of boats, cornfields, cows and lush looking villages. There's plenty if money in Breizh!

Dinner was in Lanvallay, at l'Atelier Gourmand, a quaint little restaurant in a timbered old building right next to the water. Our welcome was warm and to room cozy. We sat next to Italians, and French people filled the tiny room. We shared an appetizer after our big lunch, a baked Camembert topped with pepper and sesame seeds. We also shared a small bottle of muscadet, though I drank most of it. Ira had the moules marinieres with frites. They were plump and tender and numerous. (I helped.) I had brochettes de lotte, that wonderful monkfish I had yesterday, this time on a bed of spinach and leeks. Lot is my new favorite fish. 

We didn't share desert this time. Ira had a pave de chocolate, which is a big slab of chocolate cake, dense and dark and rich. He loved the small bunch of groseilles blanches that came as counterpoint to the richness of the chocolate. These are grapes somewhere between gooseberries and currents, tart and flavorful.

My dessert was a croquant gourmand au caramel au beurre sale de Madison, which turned out to be a tower of alternating shortbread and vanilla ice cream swimming in the most luxurious pool of caramel you can imagine. The hot, sharp espresso I had to end my meal was like a necessary medicine to all that deep sugar. We strolled home almost at a toddle, even a totter, after all that food, all those tastes!

Rome and Tivoli

It's Sunday morning, and that means that the Chiesa Sant'Ivo della Sapienza is open! It's an undisputed Borromini masterpiece, and we admire its spiral spire from the rooftop bar of the Senato. The inside, of course, is equally innovative and lush, all in white stone and plaster. The interior dome is made of six alternating convex and concave apses. It's glorious to behold, and we sat there for quite some time before continuing on our way.

We had some difficulties today. We wanted to see the gardens of the Quirinale, which are usually open on Sunday mornings. However, as the kind carabinieri explained to us, "they are closed today for security reasons because they will be open specially next Saturday." Um, OK. Anyway, we took a cab to the bus station and then a packed public bus way up into the hills to Tivoli, where the Villa d'Este so majestically flows down the hillside. Did I say flow? Well, there are supposed to be thousands of fountains jetting into the air, but today, they were shut off! Ira and I have both seen them, so it wasn't a tragedy. we still enjoyed the gardens and trees and statuary on a beautiful late spring day. Ira did a lot of crayon sketches.

Now it's a final dinner and then home tomorrow! See you in the States soon!

Rome on Saturday

Wow, we hoofed it all over the centro today. But first, we took cab to the Piazza del Popolo to visit some of my favorite paintings of all time in the Chiesa Santa Maria there. There is a Pintoricchio in the first chapel on the right that ranks up there with my "comfort paintings." I always stop by when in Rome to admire it. It's simple and warm and just perfect. Of course, the church is more famous for its two Caravaggios. And why not? The Conversion of St. Paul has one of the best horses in painting, as it gingerly steps around the prostrate Saul, exactly as a horse would, with the same look of equine concern. And the compositional genius of having the groom's leg stand in for the delicately raised front hoof of the horse brings this painting from the marvelous to the sublime. The Matyrdom of St. Peter is equally perfect. Who else but Caravaggio would make a workman's ass the first thing you see? And from the rope that digs into the other man's flesh as he struggles to raise the upside-down cross to the dirty foot of the man bearing most of the weight, even to the look of concern on Peter's face, more old man than father of the church at this moment, and I thought, "there is nothing of the divine in this painting; it's all human action."

We just walked back to our hotel after that. They were taking down seats and stands for a 160th anniversary celebration of the Rome police force. We took in the Spanish steps, aglow in the light and packed with colorful flowers and tourists. We stopped by the Fontana di Trevi. Ira reminisced about the Hotel de Fontana right there, where he spent his first nights in Rome way back in 1959 (when the hotel was for the budget-minded and the area was not absolutely jam-packed with tourists. Then it was lunch at Armando al Pantheon, a must-stop for the Roman gourmet. They promote fresh, slow food. My primi was a zucchini flower cooked with tender shrimp that was one of the best things I've eaten in recent memory. My rigatoni with chicken innards ragu was not for the faint of heart, but I love liver and heart, and this was rich and satisfying. We were lucky to get in. We just happened to be there when they opened the doors, and there were only three tables for those without reservations.

A quick rest, then a cab ride to the Palantine where we were supposed to meet up with Rosaria and Valentina for a tour of a recently restored Roman gardens. The weather was threatening, clouds moving quickly in, even a bolt of lightning off in the deep blue to the south. Luckily, the rain held off. Unluckily, we never met up with your friends! But, we both enjoyed the gardens. Ira and I strolled through the Forum, then back to our hotel just as the rain hit. Hopefully it will have stopped before dinner tonight. It's nice to be in the center of Rome just for all the opportunities to walk and see the antiquities.

Rome

It always takes me aback... how wonderful Rome is. I'm more likely to say that Venice is my favorite Italian city, but every time I'm here, Rome feels like home. This morning we took a cab out to the Scuderie del Quirinale to see the big Tintoretto show there. I've never been a huge fan, as he seemed almost slap-dash in comparison to other Renaissance and late-Renaissance and Mannerist painters. But seeing paintings grouped together always makes you appreciate an artist more as you get to see what is style and substance in an artist's repertoire. Turns out the flamboyant, quick gesture is what Tintoretto specialized in. My favorite story was that instead of producing a sketch for a competition for a Venetian Scuole, Tintoretto just painted the work on spec and gave it to them as a gift. End of contest. Our favorite painting, though, was Susanna and the Elders, which Ira and I had just seen in San Francisco. It's still terrific, with the prying old man's bald head poking out of the canvas space towards the viewer, putting us in the same uncomfortable position of Susannah. The show starts off with a bang, featuring Tintoretto's electrifying debut on the grand Italian stage of great painters. The Miracle of the Slave is incandescent, as it boldly features the rescued slave, his naked body surround by the broken implements of torture.

Next up was the Ara Pacis museum, not for the altar, but for the works of avant-garde and modernist russian art in the space below. Ira went in before me while I photographed some interesting buildings in the neighborhood, but when I went it, it was an education. Many of these paintings and painters are rarely seen outside of Mother Russia, so it was fun to get a fresh look at a movement that I thought was old hat.

Another taxi ride, this on to MAXXI, Zaha Hadid's wonderful contemporary museum. We've been trying to go here for years, and it was such a delight to go inside and see how it all works. It's complex but never confusing, large but never massive. In Ira's words, "it makes everything else look old-fashioned." The art was a mixture, but with many high notes. A walk-through camera obscura, where you followed a docent along a pitch-black walkway, holding onto a handrail until you see the inverted image of the neighboring buildings. It was great fun of course.

Now, we're having a well-deserved rest and getting ready for another rooftop drink and then leisurely outside dinner.

Florence to Rome

We had no problems on the trip from Firenze to Roma. Don and Alexa live close enough so that we just wheeled our luggage to the stazione. We bought tickets at a machine and 20 minutes later were seated next to Italian businessmen having animated conversations in first class. The countryside is beautiful, flat lands, hills, some kind of tufa-like cliffs. Of course, we recognized Orvieto when we passed. Many great memories of the Signorelli frescoes there. If I have a complaint about this trip, it's missing the Signorelli show in Perugia. Once can't do everything, but he's a painter I admire and adore. Even the cab ride to the Albergo al Senato from the Roma Termine station was shorter than I expected, though the driver talked nonstop into his telephoning. I can't call it a conversation, more of a harangue.

Piazza della Rotunda is generally crowded with tourists, and today was no exception. Once we were rested from our trip, we first went into the building to see a great beam of light flowing from the aperture in the roof. Next, we headed to Piazza Navona for a quick lunch. It's touristy but one of the cafes that lines the piazza, Tucci, is quite good. I had their risotto all creme di scampi, which is perfect. Of course, we finished the meal across the way with tartufi di chocolate from Tr Scalini. Ira sketched a bit, and we watched the piazza performers, paint, draw, pose, busk and sell.

We stopped quickly into the Sant'Andrea della Valle to admire its rich baroque interior. The paintings of the martyrdom of Saint Andrew are powerful, and "read" across the length of the church. There aren't any great paintings per se, but the lush baroque stylings and rich detailing make this a wonderful church to visit.

After a nap, we met Rosaria and Valentina at the hotel's rooftop deck for a drink before dinner. The sun was setting over the rooftops of Rome. We talked politics, both office and national, as bats wheeled around in the suddenly cool air. Sea gulls glowed in the dusk as they landed on a construction crane to the north. The Pantheon's roof was wonderful in that light. Of course, everything looks beautiful in that Mediterranean glow.

We ate dinner at a simple pizzeria around the corner at Valentina's suggestion. Our meal was good and Roman. Ira and I both had the grilled vegetables, fritto misti alla Romana. I started with a cacio and pepe pasta. We finished our evening after midnight at an old gelateria, one of the first big facilities in Rome, which really hit its stride in the '50s. Now, it's off to bed and a busy day tomorrow.

I Tatti and Florence

Our host, Alexa, works at I Tatti, Harvard's Center for the Study of the Renaissance. After three trips to Florence, we finally got the opportunity to visit her there. Ira sketched in the garden while Alexa took me on a tour. The controversial frescoes in the reading room by Rene Piot were fairly dreadful. (Berenson hated them when he saw them in progress; the two had a falling out and the uncompleted frescoes were covered for decades. They were only uncovered in the '70s, I think. Still, they are intriguing, with lots of naked bodies cavorting and working the fields in some sort of erotic social realism. One fellow on the right was doing the downward dog, and I had to wonder if this was an explicit yoga reference or something more coincidental.) But, of course, there are many wonderful paintings there as well, and the house, library and new additions all harmoniously placed there on the hillside in Fiesole.

We had met the director and his wife in San Francisco, and they were gracious in welcoming us to i Tatti, a completely charming couple. If you're a Renaissance scholar, I hope you get the opportunity to study and perhaps stay there. And, if you would just like to support the wonderful work they do there… Before going off to work, Alexa showed me around the gardens, which were beautiful and immaculately maintained. The cypress hedges must have been edged with a laser. They were perfectly squared. The roses were just ending, though many other flowers were in full riot, including the aromatic jasmine that had Ira practically swooning as he sketched.

Lunch, again, was at Sostanza. Yesterday, almost all Italian businesspeople. Today, mostly American tourists with only one lone local representative. I had the pasta al sugo to start, crunchy penne with a rich meat sauce, then finished up with lombata di vitello, veal chop, that was succulent, perfectly cooked, and just perfect after an overcast morning. Some vino rosso della cassa and that wonderful meringue dessert, and it was a good day! Two lunches in two days at my favorite restaurant in the world; I'm doin' something right!

The sun came out as we strolled across the city, but there wasn't a line at the Uffizi, so we had to go in and spend a couple of hours with some of the most magnificent paintings in the universe. Alongside the obvious masterpieces, I was taken by a Luca Signorelli painting. His Crucifixion with St. Mary Magdalene was superb, modern and moving. Mary's face, in particular, was so strong and sensitive and beautiful. The foreground figures are so powerful, it took me a while to notice the blank white moonscape in the background. It gave the painting such a modern feeling, as if Signorelli was capturing some future muse. If you are planning a trip to Italy, you could do worse than see his magnificent frescoes at the Cathedral in Orvieto. Michelangelo stopped by to see them before continuing on to paint the Sistine Chapel. There are also two small works by Boticelli, odd takes on the biblical tale of Judith beheading Holofernes. It's a common painting subject, but most often the actual beheading is the grisly scene. Botticelli takes two different looks at it: the discovery of the headless body by his men, and the triumphal carrying of the head by Judith and her maid back to their camp. I'm not sure that any other painting has covered that territory! We hadn't expected to go to the galleries at all due to the crowds, so this was an unexpected pleasure.

Now, we're relaxing before our last dinner in Florence, then off to Rome tomorrow.

Pistoia to Florence

We had enough time to visit the Ospedale del Ceppo with its glorious glazed terra-cotta frieze. Ira and I both thought it was by della Robbia, but it was done by a contemporary Santi Buglioni. The Wikipedia has an interesting tidbit about how Buglioni learned of the glazing secrets of della Robbia after DR went to France to escape the plaque. It seems a "woman" was involved. Sounds like a great story to follow up on. Thanks knowledgeable Wikipedia editor!

. And ceppo means tree trunk, which is apparently where offerings for the hospital were left. Another fascinating tale, though this time from another source, Michelin.

We didn't have time for the underground tour of Pistoia, but that sounds like a must for next time in Tuscany. Apparently, you can travel under most of the city, seeing medieval and Roman ruins. I wish we'd have more time!

We had to drive into Florence and be at Don and Alexa's house by noon however. We took the national route and made it all the way into the centro in good time and without any mistakes. We even found a parking spot right in front of their door. (Think impossibly narrow cobble-stoned alley in impossibly trafficked touristy neighborhood right by the train station to get an idea of how lucky we were. We unloaded the bags, returned the car, and had time for luck at my favorite restaurant in the world, Sostanza, nicknamed Il Troia (The Trough) because of its communal tables. Don and Alexa live two doors up from here, so we always get treated like locals (including getting a real doggy bag for Lucy, the best dog in Florence!) I had the finocchiana, a fennel sausage that is moist and flavorful. Ira then had the tortellini al burro, which they buy just around the corner. Just simple pasta, but so flavorful. Then, I had the tortino al carciofi, basically an artichoke omelet, also swimming in butter. Not a good place for cholesterol. We finished the meal by sharing the meringue, a wonderful confection of thin meringue, whipped cream, and fraises de bois. Incredible. We hope to get in tomorrow. It's a popular place with both Italian businesspeople and tourists.

Next up was a two-minute walk to Basilica Santa Maria Novella. It's famous for its Masaccio crucifixion, it's Ghirlandaio frescoes and stained glass, and it's Filippino Lippi frescoes. I'm not going to link all those nouns. Look 'em up yourself. The Masaccio is brilliant, early perspective done in this odd but compelling pink color. One of its innovations is to have God, the Father, in a crucifixion scene, almost unheard of. And what a God he is, seeming to hold up the arms of the cross both as a stern father who is making sure his son goes through with the torment, and as a comfort, supporting his son in his final agony. There is something about the psychology of this painting that makes me think in modern terms, even if my interpretation is unorthodox or just wrong. The fresco cycles in the Strozzi chapel and the main altar are extraordinary as well. The colors are fresh as new paint, and Lippi's modeling makes the figures stand out from the wall. They're strangely modern, almost pre-Raphaelite. If you're in Florence, don't miss this church. Just the dimensions are perfect.

There's going to be a big gelato festival in town starting tomorrow. (Ira swears it's a coincidence.) They were setting up booths in various piazzae around town. We had a drink in Piazza Repubblica, then came home to meet Valentina, and move into her place while she's in Rome. (We're meeting her and Rosaria there on Thursday.) Tonight was dinner with Don and Alexa. The food was wonderful, but the company overshadowed what we ate. What a great night of conversation with old friends. The best reason to travel!

May 21, Pisa

Driving rain on the drive out of town… what happened to sunny Tuscany. As we approached the final hills before the plain to the sea, however, blue skies were opening up. It took until about noon for the bright sunshine to eclipse the clouds, but it did prevail. Ira navigated us smartly to the Piazza dei Miracoli. We also scored a great parking spot just steps from this monumental tourist attraction, so it was a double bonus. The crowds were already large by the time we got there, but I got us tickets in a lull, and we started with the Camposanto. The frescos, badly damaged as

they are even after restoration, are incredible. Color are delicate. The theme of the triumph of death in my favorite fresco aligns perfectly with this burial place. Although many of the graves are old, we saw one for someone who had did in 2009. Not as good as a mobster being buried in the Vatican, but still… pretty classy.

We both found the architecture more stirring than most of the artworks in the cathedral and the baptistry. The baptistry in fact was a bit annoying, with constant tour guide chatter being constantly shushed by the attendants. The exterior with its light Gothic second story was charming. We watched it in shadow bright sunshine, and mixed light from the clouds that floated overhead. Charming in all lights. Similarly, the cathedral was gorgeous on the outside, particularly the bronze doors with their marvelous bas-reliefs and delicate leaf work. Inside, only the pulpit, by Giovanni Pisani, takes ones breath away. Both Ira and I love

representations of the Slaughter of the Innocents, and this one had a carved panel that was terrifying and terrific.

Of course, the tower is leaning. It's become the focal point of the piazza, where once the Camposanto held the most interest for travelers. Tastes change, and the frescoes are now damaged, but I can't help thinking there's kind of a freakshow aspect to the tower. We did watch a video of the detailed and sometime fraught reconstruction of the support for the tower after its slippage in the '90s. Score one for Italian engineering, even if the original designer botched the job!

After a few hours enjoying the sun and the sights, we drove up to Viareggio for lunch. Of course, it's much too early for the summer season to have started, but the sun was warm, and we had a simple meal overlooking the cabanas and umbrellas of one of the private beaches in town. Now we're resting before our final night in Pistoia. We're going to do a simple dinner of pizza or pasta and then get an early start to Florence tomorrow to wave goodbye to the car for the rest of the trip.

Lucca

We had a driving day today, made a bit more difficult by the copious amounts of rain, but we managed! Instead of the autostrada, the big freeways denoted in green, we took the national route, a road that snakes through hills and towns, denoted with blue signs. They allow for a more leisurely perusal of the countryside and locales. Our first discovery was the train station at Montacatini Terme, a wonderful example of modern architecture by Angiolo Mazzoni. He was a Fascist and Futurist, and built a succession of public works during the '20s and '30s. We passed it in the car, then both looked at each other and turned around for a more detailed look. It was well worth the deviation. It was detailed and still in its original form, with strong horizontal position marked off by a dramatic knife of a tower. The stonework was also detailed.

Lucca is a popular Tuscan destination, and why not? It's an old walled city with towers and churches and good food. Inside the walls the land rises up to meet them, and there's a popular strolling and jogging path along most of it.

Our first stop was the Cathedral of St. Martin. It was a Sunday, and there was a large antiques fair in the piazza in front of the church and snaking around the surrounding area. It was a bit bedraggled with the rain, but they were making the most of the opportunity. Inside, the church contains some wonderful pieces, nothing famous but several glorious paintings, including one by Ghirlandaio, The Virgin Mary with the Holy Child among Saints Peter, Clement Papa, Paul and Sebastian, that rewarded close attention.

We wandered around looking for a suitable lunch place and came across the lovely San Michele in Foro with an intricate facade of columns and arches and statues and more detail than you could ever hope to drink in just on one visit. I'd like to get a book with more detailed descriptions of this Pisan type of architecture. We did find our restaurant, Osteria de Leo, where we sat outside under an enormous umbrella where we were protected from the rain. Luckily, it wasn't cold, just wet.

After that, it was just a simple stroll back to the car, though we did stop at the amazing Piazza dell'Anfiteatro, which is the site of an old Roman amphitheater. Now, it's just a square, but in oval shape and surrounded by the most lovely collection of buildings. They're not fancy, just all of a piece, and it's a marvelous spot just to sit and relax. We took the autostrada home after that, and then had dinner at the same restaurant we did the day previously. This time, I focused more on meat than vegetables, and had a lovely Florentine steak, aged dry as they tend to do, but softened with a touch of olive oil and some tender tomatoes. Oh, and we did have a drink in the piazza before dinner, but inside the bar, which was dark and wooden with arched brick vault ceilings. Much fun. Today, it's off to Pisa!