The Wino and I Know

This morning we managed a successful tour of historic Florence, seeing the Accademia, Piazza del Duomo, Piazza della Repubblica, Piazza della Signoria, Mercato Nuovo, and Ponte Vecchio. We ate and drank at some wonderful restaurants (it's 1am here and I have gotten up to naming 151 countries, so their names will be posted in a list sometime later) and DI can give you details on exactly what I ate in all of them, since he is living vicariously through me this week. At around 1pm (12 hours ago?!) we sat down to have a drink, and when PB hesitated for a moment over whether it would in fact be kosher to drink so early, I had to remind her to always wonder, "What would Jimmy Buffett do*?"

Ah, Jimmy Buffett - muse through the years and music to my ears. Whenever confused by life, I have reverted to his wisdom, which is admittedly as difficult to follow as the Bible for somewhat similar reasons (the contradictions, not the praying or flagellating or plaguing - though when asking, "WWJBD?", turning water into wine is definitely on the list). I probably learned to speak by listening to Jimmy Buffett songs. I certainly learned what Junior Mints were from his music, and who Flaubert was, and also that aspiring to be a pirate when I grow up is an admirable goal but not a practical one. All in all, the logic of his sound is sound logic.

Moving on: at 3pm we met MaK and Monika Iris back at the hotel to begin a wine tour. Let me go ahead and put a plug in for Monica right now. BMc recommended her to me, and she is absolutely superawesome. Seriously, if you ever happen to go to/by/through/around Florence, even in dreams, get her contact information from me and go on one of her tours. She will even customize a tour for you based specifically on your requests and also can take you horseback riding or hiking or to see basketweavers (you get the point). Basically, she is amazing.

We rode in her Subaru along beautiful, narrow roads through the Chianti region, up past the Piazzale Michaelangelo, which I had not seen before and which had yet another copy of "David" (really, how many copies can one city want?). From the Piazzale we could actually see Georgetown's Villa up on the hill above Florence, which was pretty awesome and got me started talking about the Villa all over again (my parents are sick of hearing about it by now). Our next destination was M.I.T.A.L. (Manifattura Imprunetana Terrecotte Artistiche e Laterizi), a terrecotte workshop/villa where we saw beautiful pottery and learned that every three weeks, when the oven is full and ready to be fired, the owners actually brick up the wall and let the oven burn for days. To get the pottery out, they have to tear the wall down. Crazy terrecotte-ers.

We then headed up to Greve, where we bought water from the Caffe le Logge and stopped at Macelleria Falorni, a tasty butcher shop, for some prosciutto. Finally, the wine section began. Le Masse di Lamole was our first destination, where we tasted a Chianti Classico as well as a Riserva and made off with TWELVE bottiglie of the Riserva**. At Cennatoio, the second vineyard, we tasted so many wines I eventually lost count; the place was also teeming with cats (I named them Cat, Cat 2, Cat 3, and Cat 4) and a friendly dog with a green bandanna wagged his way around us as we toured the gardens and vineyards. The last location was actually my favorite - we were given antipasti and four wines by a sweet old man named Fernando - but I did not get a brochure (I do not believe they existed) and so will have to wait to post the name of that particular vineyard until my parents wake up tomorrow morning.

Supper was a whirlwind of several antipasti, gnocchi and salmon for PB and me to share, two types of wine, and a berry tart; finally we arrived back at the hotel, where I rinsed off in this insane shower that has no walls and began writing this. The moral? I am heading to sleep.

Post postscript: I know I have been giving facts only and that this has not been the most interesting LCBlog session; please forgive me as I am quite tired and apparently becoming something of a wino/sleepless creature of both the night and day who has purple bags under her eyes that really do bring out the green of her irises.

*He'd say, "I don't care - it's 5 o'clock somewhere".
**See how much better it is to travel as if you were a rich girl?