Your August-in-Florence Report

Viral sandwiches, a "Big Kiss-ue," and the changing of the pronouns.

Florence has a sandwich for whomever you are today—and it’s definitely not *only* at All'Antica Vinaio.

Normally, I would not be caught dead in Florence at the tail end of August, but here I do find myself, rather unexpectedly, for some important meetings. I’ve been here for a week and heading home tomorrow, but what a paradigm-twister. It’s both better and worse than I’d imagined. Ride along.

It’s very hot. Like 99F. And the lovely stones of Florence absorb that heat and reflect it back up to you, making it feel like 115F. Yes, there are a lot of tourists. Some things are still closed. These are all the things we would expect in August. But it is, strangely, not as crowded as the last few times I’ve been here, which is usually in March, April, October, and November. The mosh-pit in front of All’ Antica Vinaio, the “viral sandwich shop,” is down to fifty folks instead of 200. Thats a good thing, since I frequently need to walk down Via dei Neri. I’m flummoxed by the rabid popularity of this chain. There are many many other excellent sandwich shops in Firenze, most notably ‘Ino, a 3-minute walk from the mosh-pit. I heard Americans evaluating the length of the line, as if this was a hardship they must face—a challenge akin to grabbing the gold ring on a merry-go-round—in order to get hold of the only estimable panino in town.

It’s not.

Outside the mosh-pit: Happy people! Really, quite a few of them.

Many people have mentioned that the “Gram” has single-handedly ruined large swathes of Europe. I think it’s true. We’ve all (right?) read about the destructive numbers of tourists all congregating at “Insta-ready” spots and missing out on wonderful sights and experiences farther off the beaten track. See Barcelona, Venezia—the list keeps growing. Sigh.

And now, about the kissing issue, the “Kiss-ue,” if you will. As a ten-year resident of Europe, double-cheek-kissing has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. I have a ton of French, Austrian, and German friends in the US, and we double-kiss even if we just saw each other a week ago. It’s simple: gently lean in to the left of the person you are greeting and touch your right cheek to their right cheek. Pull back slowly (no-one is rushing here), then swap sides and achieve contact between the left cheeks. You can also just go with the air-cheek, which is preferable when everyone is drenched with sweat, as here and now.

No actual pursing of lips is necessary. But I have belatedly noticed, with great confusion, that Italians start with the left cheeks first. Apparently, this is a settled custom—who knew? (Everyone but me.) If you are not vigilant, this can result in some unwelcome nose-mashing. When greeting me, all my generous and understanding Italian friends seem fine and adaptable with “right cheek first,” but if I hope to truly fit in, I’ll need to adjust. It’s a hard habit to change. I predict some awkward-ness in my future. (More than the usual.)

And now for the pronouns: Students of romance languages like French, Spanish, and Italian, know that Every.Single.Item has a gender, and that pronouns are, well, super-complicated. (That’s nothing compared to the articles: there are SEVEN ways to say “the” in Italian; mostly because of, once again, the whole gender issue.)

The other night at my favorite snack joint, Le Volpi et L’Uva in Oltrarno, I asked the cute, earring-wearing kid behind the bar constructing my Crostone with melted taleggio and truffled sausage (swoon), what would happen here in Italy as the world moves away from such strict defining of gender.

Remember, Lui = He, and Lei = She. And yikes, the verbs, at least some of them, must agree with the gender. As in: “She went” = “Lei e andatA,” and “He went” = “Lui e andatO.” Also “They went” = “Loro sono andatI.”

I’ll stop now at the risk of boring the literal pants off of everyone.

The upshot is that Earring-Boy told me there is a movement to replace “Lui” and “Lei” with “Loo.” A nascent movement, to be certain. But I think it’s very exciting! The world moves along, and we either adapt or become dinosaurs.

And finally a word about breakfast. I’ve been coming to Tuscany on the really regular for over twenty years. On earlier trips, when my partner proposed to me here at Caffe Gilli, and then we got married in Radda, we stayed at inexpensive hotels, but there was always a glorious breakfast. Then in intervening years when one stayed longer, I or we have always rented flats. So no breakfast other than what I rustle up from Conad City or Mercato Sant’Ambrogio—usually not much. But this week’s trip was too short for a flat-rental and thus, I’m at a rather nice hotel, and: Ahhhh, the incredible breakfast buffet! What have I been thinking all these years of largely skipping breakfast? It’s fuel for the 14k steps I’ve walked every day this week. IMHO: If one eats breakfast and then walks like crazy, one can skip lunch and eat PASTA for dinner. Thats my story, anyway. And sticking to it, I am.

Prepared for anything with my Coolibar anti-sun umbrella, which conveniently also deflects rain. Both are here in spades this week. But I’ve now learned how to navigate via streets that are in the shade during the middle of the day, saving the riverside strolls for the luscious dusk and dark hours.

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Tidbits For The Week of August 25, 2024

Brigit’s What I’m

CURRENTLY LOVING ➡️  The streets of Firenze, where I know every shortcut from Duomo-Repubblica-Signoria to Ciompi-Santa Croce-Sant' Ambrogio.
THINKING ABOUT ➡️ Moving.....
LISTENING TO ➡️ "Tu Vuo Fa L'Americano," the version from "The Talented Mr. Ripley."