Florence

The snow covered country side on the one hour and forty minute train ride between Milan and Florence is straight out of a fairy tale.

More than once during the journey it brings tears to my eyes. No one else on the train seems to notice, or maybe they have just seen it all before.

Our apartment is by the river about 250 metres south of the Ponte Vecchio, a famous pedestrian bridge. It has a cute little bed on a mezzanine for the boys. In our room is a grand piano which we figure is only in the room because there is no way to get it out without taking a wall out.

We drop off our bags and head straight there. I don’t remember the expensive jewellery stores that line the bridge and wonder if they were here 25 years ago. It is bitterly cold and even though it’s snowing it seems much colder than in Milan. Frank comments on it too. Although I am wearing gloves my fingers feel stiff and raw. The guy that met us at the apartment recommended a place for lunch and we head there, our eyes and noses running.The boys order Pizza (of course), Frank has spaghetti bolognaise and I order spaghetti with clams. The spaghetti is al dente and fabulous. After lunch we walk to the Statue of David (one of the fake ones in the square, not the real one in the Museum).

There are hundreds of statues and I say to Frank, ‘Do you think these are statues or have some of the locals just frozen?’ On that note it is time to take the boys back to the warmth of the apartment. Frank says he’ll pick some stuff up at the Supermarket and meet us back there.Now, when we walked out the apartment we passed a bridge and I think we could see the Ponte Vecchio. It is getting dark and I try my ‘CISA’ key in the ‘CISA’ lock that I imagine to be our apartment. It doesn’t work. Sam says, ‘No Mum, it’s further up that way’, pointing south. Rocco says, ‘No go that way, back the way we came’, pointing north. I say, ‘Shh, let me think’.We go further south and I say, ‘it’s not that far I don’t remember passing this shop’.Sam says, ‘I remember passing it.’Rocco says, ‘Go back the way we came’.I try our key in every ‘CISA’ lock and that is just about all of them but every door looks the same. I start to panic, soon it will be dark, it is freezing cold and I don’t have the details of the apartment; they are in Frank’s pocket.Sam urges us to keep heading south. I say, ‘It’s not this far’. But Sam is insistent. I try another lock – no. Sam walks ahead and says, ‘Here it is’. I try the lock and we’re in. Sam says, ‘You should trust me with more things’. I agree, ‘Yes Sam, you’re totally right’. How will Frank find the apartment? He has no key and a limited sense of direction (forgive me). The boys snuggle up and I head out to find him on the street. On meeting him I say dramatically, ‘I had to come and get you, you’ll never find the apartment.’He looks at me quizzically, ‘Yes I will it’s number 8.'

On our second day in Florence it is minus ten degrees. We catch a tour bus to see Florence frm the lookout (needless to say we sit down the bottom where it is warmer).

As part of the tour we go to a little village out of Florence, Fiesole, which is lovely but especially cold.

Even the dogs head inside to do a spot of shopping to keep out of the cold.

Our three days in Florence are very special but the sun is calling to us so we head to Pisa which is our exit point to the next leg of our journey.

We walk up the leaning tower and Sam gains an extra year (you have to be 8 to climb it). For lunch we have a nice Italian meal near the leaning tower; interestingly even the water bottle at lunch is leaning.