Postcards from Italy
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Postcards from Italy
From big (David, the Colosseum, St. Peter's Basilica) to small (cars, pasta dishes, hotel bathrooms), reflections from our two-week trip
We’re in Italy.
Each day for the past 13 days, Bridgett and I have repeated that phrase multiple times. It’s become a bit of a running joke. But it’s also a reminder that no matter how tedious or inconvenient a moment may become — and those happen in between the well-known tourism spots — simply being in Italy makes it somehow superior to the tedious, inconvenient stuff we experience back home in the U.S.
As noted in my last dispatch, Italy has been the unlikely place where I have given up my coffee habit. But there is plenty more to note from our time here, which draws to a close on Thursday. Below is a sampling of observations, a small fraction from the cross-section of our experiences in Lucca, Florence and Rome.
Michelangelo’s David truly is a rock star.
When we went to the Accademia Gallery of Florence last week, we knew that David – the colossal masterpiece that Michelangelo crafted over 500 years ago – would be the marquee attraction. We got a sneak preview of his rock-star appeal the previous day at the Uffizi Gallery, where our tour guide, Valeria, would refer to him in some context, always adding this modifier: “my boyfriend.”
Expectations were lofty, but those high expectations were exceeded.
The buzz that precedes seeing David isn’t what keeps people gazing and gawking at him from all angles for long stretches. Halfway into our visit to the Accademia, he was maybe 40 meters in the distance when Bridgett and I first laid eyes on him.
There were plenty of other sculptures and other pieces of art in our midst, so we took about 20 minutes to check them out in the approach to David. Once we drew closer to the 17-foot, 6-ton sculpture, though, something like a force field kept us in its clutches. We lingered far longer than any other single work of art we have experienced on this trip.
Lots of stuff in Italy is smaller.
This includes cars, streets, pasta dishes, and even – maybe especially – hotel bathrooms.
Cars
The average-sized car in Italy is barely bigger than a golf cart. I think some might be golf carts. Good thing the birth rate is so tiny: at 1.25 per woman, it is well below the European Union norm of 1.53.
It’s neither polite nor safe to strap one or two of the kids on those tiny car roofs. A big ol’ American-style SUV, on the other hand, could easily accommodate three teenagers strapped in tight.
Streets
In my fair village back home, signs exhort drivers to “share the road.”
In Italy, no such sign is necessary – in some spots, there’s no other way for pedestrians, bicyclists, motorcyclists and motorists to co-exist. We learned quickly to keep our heads up and on swivels—at any moment, from any direction, something might be coming right at you. Many streets resemble those in the U.S., but in some areas, there really isn’t much room for error along those narrow lanes.
It was pretty fun – I felt like Tom Cruise’s character in Mission Impossible, straining against the wall to sidestep tragedy.
Pasta Dishes
In the U.S., dishes rival the circumference of garbage can lids at a fraternity party. In Italy, they are reasonably proportioned.
Because they are usually not intended as the main dish, pasta servings are about one-half to two-thirds as ample as their American culinary counterparts. Early in our trip, I figured out that if I was especially hungry, I should pivot to pizza. For about 10 euros, I would receive a personal, uncut serving that would easily fill me up.
Other than Bridgett’s good influence, having to carve out each piece myself has been the only thing that has slowed my devouring of these delicacies.
Hotel Bathrooms
Admittedly, the sample size of our hotel bathrooms has been small (three), but two had such extraordinary size limitations that I feel compelled to go into a bit of detail.
The first bathroom’s shower, in Lucca, had a tube-like quality that made it fit for a 2-year-old. Claustrophobic is too generous a term; each time I showered, I elbowed the glass. On the plus side, if you ever need someone to compete in a Shower-in-a-Straitjacket contest, I’m your guy.
It didn’t take long for me to gain additional perspective: checking into our room in Florence, I began pining for the Lucca bathroom where my only quibble was the shower. In Florence, at a hotel whose rate was the most expensive we've paid in all our travels, our room was spacious and featured a beautiful fresco on the ceiling, but our bathroom was comically confined.
This sliver of space required dexterity, creativity, tenacity and concentration. And, most of all, a sense of humor. In those moments when I’d start to grow angry at the ridiculous layout more suited to Flat Stanleys than people, I would holler, “We’re in Italy!”
The Colosseum Is…Colossal
A trip to the Colosseum was the centerpiece of our first full day in Rome, two days ago. The analogies between this historical locale and modern-day athletics, especially American football gladiators, are obvious.
The venue seated over 50,000, those spectators were set apart based on social class, and the events were a collective emotional outlet from Romans’ day-to-day stresses. Apart from the deaths (gladiators and some other participants, such as prisoners), the parallels with today’s arena gatherings are striking.
P.S.: Stuff that’s Different from the U.S.
Tipping is Not Expected
By and large, tipping is not expected here. As a result, the only tipping we have done is for housekeeping, our tour guide Valeria at the Uffizi, and our server yesterday at a great down-home restaurant a few blocks from Vatican City. Otherwise, tipping isn’t the norm because, unlike the U.S., restaurant servers are paid a living wage. What a concept.
We are still getting our heads around the reality that the price stated on the menu (which already incorporates an Italian tax) is what we actually pay, instead of sales tax and gratuity on top, which can add another 30%+ to the tab.
Old-School Hotel Key Policy
At our first two hotels, the expectation was that we’d leave our room key at the front desk upon leaving, then retrieve it when we return. That’s really “old school,” as well as weird and disconcerting to me. In Florence, I had little confidence the rotation of personnel at the front desk actually recognized the Barons were the ones with the rightful access to Room Quarantotto.
What if someone else just asks for our key and cleans out all our possessions?
Vatican City
One final note from our lengthy sojourn yesterday to Vatican City, which was filled with fascinating historical artifacts and artistic splendor throughout the Vatican Museums. Our time was capped by the Sistine Chapel (beautiful, of course, but smaller than expected), followed by St. Peter’s Basilica (way, way bigger than we thought humanly possible — it’s the length of two football fields and could fit some 60,000 people.)
After more exploration of Rome today (including the Spanish Steps, the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain), we head back home tomorrow. Forevermore, we will always be able to reminisce, “We were in Italy!”
If you enjoyed this column, please share it with others and check out the other columns I have written. Coming up on Saturday: my second installment of “Brother Love,” about my relationship with my brother Phil. You can read the first installment here.
Ciao!
Well, this is when I first saw David. Bridgett paid him a visit, with her mother and sister, back in the summer after she graduated high school.
Italy’s birth rate is at its lowest since the country began keeping records over 160 years ago. Economic worries are the biggest factor.
Postcards from Italy
wow that looks like a lot of fun. So glad you guys have been enjoying yourself. I'm a little shocked that David weight 6 tons!
Your "we're in Italy" statements reminds me when my wife and I got married. We'd look at each other in shock and say "we're married." It's fun to be able to experience that with someone else.