January 15, 2014

Off we trudged this morning in search of a laundromat.  Grumble.  The place we're staying does indeed have a washer but it is for Lilliputians.  A pair of pants and that's a full load, pal.  Plus, it looks snaky. One look at it and the unintelligible symbols on it create visions of soapy water spilling out all over the  floor.  Hmm, and no GFCI circuit for it.  Danger, DANGER Will Robinson!   I swear, Italy is home for some grandiose stuff but washers do not lie in that realm.

So - the barrista at the local coffee shop said to head  down this one lane (she pointed) and we would find a lavateria.  We jammed all our smelly clothes into a suitcase and away we went.

A Florence Sidewalk

Did I mention the sidewalks in Italy are not constructed to any particular building code?  Or that huge buses zoom by  at a zillion miles an hour only inches from your face and nether regions?  No? Neglectful.  Italians seem unfazed by this.  I associate it with their driving skills.

We did find the laundromat, a peculiar little hole in the wall that housed exactly 3  washers (two normal by the US standard, one blanket-sized) and 2 dryers.  The laundromat itself was about the size of a small kitchen.  We dumped our stuff in and headed for a coffee shop, crossing our fingers that some thug wouldn't find our underwear an attractive haul.

Score 1:  We found a book-binder and printer shop on the way.  For real.  The owner made beautiful journals and printed lovely wrapping paper.  We got to see him at the task.

Preparing the dipping vat

Creating the pattern in the vat

Adding a swirl

Dipping the paper

Finished product

Score 2:  I saw a furniture restoration shop (who knew these still existed?) and watched a guy repair an antique chair (busted leg), all the while chatting with a friend.  Italians simply cannot talk without waving their hands, so this was something to watch.

Score 3:  There was a watch/clock repair  store that had fabulous clocks and watches in the window. But  it was closed.  : (

The little clock store

A little vegetable store.

The local butcher shop

A hardware store offering.

Score 4:  No one rifled our drawers.  We trudged back home with wet clothes and hung them on a drying rack.

It was past lunchtime and we went foraging.  The plan was to visit the only bridge that wasn't bombed in Florence during WWII, Ponte Veccio.  The history for this bridge is that wealthy people had it built  so  they wouldn't have to associate with the poorer citizens of Florence.  I named it The Snooty Bridge.

The Snooty Bridge  

There are little shops on the bridge and it looked like a cool place to check out.  But we never made it.  There was a beautiful silver shop that was on the way; and then the shopkeeper, a charming woman with very good English, recommended a restaurant next door.

The restaurant is owned by the heirs of the Ferragamo shoe empire.  So of course we had to go there for lunch, and yes it was fabulous.  Fabio is the manager and swooped over us as soon as we walked inside.  Like just about every place we've been into, there were ancient frescoes smiling down on us from the ceiling.  

Then we had to make our way home for a nap.  We seem to have fallen into the Italian lifestyle very nicely.