New Year Under the Tuscan Sun
Meanderings through Italy’s rolling hills and Renaissance homes.
Buckle up for a long one, but largely on account of the photos. Open up this piece in the Substack app, or online here, for a better reading experience.
As I might have mentioned, I visited Tuscany over new year and stayed for a few days into the start of January, prolonging the Christmas break as much as annual leave and budget would allow. My partner - who we’ve now agreed I will herein refer to as A! - had been there for over a week already, so I tagged on for more family festivities as well as sightseeing for two. I felt excited to jet off, though the appeal of more time to read on the sofa at home, cosied up next to the Christmas tree, was pretty hard to leave behind.
I've been known to do a January trip in years gone by; weekends in Amsterdam and err... Benidorm (don't ask) for friends’ birthdays, as well as Berlin, Krakow and a ski trip to Tignes in the hay day of post-exam university reading weeks. But I'd never been away during the ‘Twixmas/new year period. I imagined the airport to be a scene directly from Love Actually, and prayed there would be no similarities to Carry On, having watched it with my family one night over the break.
In actual fact it was pretty quiet, with a few good sales in duty free, but otherwise standard airport affair. Martine McCutcheon nor Colin Firth were anywhere to be found.
That said, as I came through the arrivals doors at Pisa airport, A was waiting to welcome me, excited to spend the next week exploring places he knows like the back of his hand, as well as spots new to us both.
First Stop: Empoli
While I wouldn't call it out as a must-see destination, should you find yourself, by train or by car, at the cross section of Pisa, Florence and Siena, in need of a coffee or lunch stop, then Empoli won't serve you wrong. As I would find to be true of many places visited through the week, the streets here were made for meandering, with smart boutiques, local delis, and grand old churches just around every corner. Empoli did well with the Christmas lights too, providing photo ops with giant teddy bears and pristine snowmen, and that classic winter character... the donkey - a nod to an old, rather dramatic, tradition, Flight of the Donkey. You’ll be pleased to know that these days it’s no longer a real animal that the locals suspend from a rope at the bell tower.
Questionable traditions aside, a visit to Empoli was a great stop off for a post-flight stretch of the legs before heading further into the Tuscan heartlands where we'd be staying with A’s family in Lamporecchio, Pistoia.
New Year’s Eve: Viareggio, Lucca, and Monetecatini Alto
After an evening full of food and wine - I was getting the full Italian treatment, complete with olive oil harvested and bottled by the family themselves - we were up and out early for breakfast at the beach!
Viareggio is a seaside town full of the aura of old school glamour, complete with a never-ending promenade of places to shop, drink coffee and watch the world go by in true Mediterranean style. As my style icons - Italian women usually over 60 with impeccable style - wandered along the palm trees that line the middle of the wide street, there was also a hint of something akin to how I imagine Miami might have been at the height of the Fontainebleau Hotel’s 1950’s fame.
Shuffle down the side streets, between the boutiques that pulled us in with the promise of early January sales, and on the other side opens up a whole new world of sand, sea and sun. We were incredibly lucky with the New Year’s Eve weather. The sun was bright and warm, and though the temperatures still called for scarves and coats, locals were enjoying a stroll on the sand, with dogs running along the shore, and a few brave souls even taking a dip in the sea.
What a treat to be at an Italian beach on new year's eve, taking in the blue of the sky meeting the blue of the sea - each with such a brilliance you wondered where one started and another ended.
Soon lunch was calling, and though I'm not a fish fan, A’s nose was turned by the range of boats turned food shacks serving catches from the waters they were docked in. He went for a hearty serving of fritto misto di mare, while I settled for penne alla Puttanesca which was deliciously satisfying, all the more so for being enjoyed dockside in the winter sun.
After lunch we were back at the shops as A toyed with the idea of buying somewhere around 15 different coats and jackets (eventually, several days later, settling on the one I said was best from the start) while I Googled the cost of extra luggage that I'd be leaving it to him to pay.
Later that afternoon we headed to Lucca, an old-town city surrounded by walls protecting ancient buildings and well kept piazzas, known nationally for hosting major music events (this year including everyone from Simple Minds to Alanis Morissette to Thirty Seconds to Mars).
In an attempt to see as much as we could while daylight was still on our side, we hired a golf buggy type contraption that we'd cycle around the inner walls, taking in the views as we got our bearings. Less than 60 seconds into the journey we realised it wouldn't be as easy as it looked, yet persevered for the 4km stretch, laughing as we squeezed in more of a work out than anticipated.
A post-ride espresso revved us up for another few hours, including to climb the steps of a bell tower for incredible 360 views as the sun was starting to set, and making our way around the small streets full of impressive facades featuring doorways to welcome walkers into cosy bars and shops filled with an array of delightfully packed shelves.
In one square we found a small Christmas market, and so mulled wine and roasted chestnuts were next on the menu as we wandered through the twinkle of the sophisticated fairy lights to find our way back to the edge of the city.
An hour drive back "home" for dinner, we feasted more, this time with Albanian treats, before wrapping up as midnight approached to join with others heading to Monetecatini Alto to watch fireworks spark across several towns and cities, as we stood with a bottle of fizz at 260m high.
Happy new year indeed.
New Year’s Day: Abetone
The morning after the night before, a later than planned start given that bedtime went beyond 2am, we were back in the car, three generations in tow, for a trip to the slopes. Not one seasoned skier among us (I've not been back since that university trip) a few were keen to try, and even if it didn't work out then lunch with a snowy view would still be something we'd all enjoy.
An hour and a half later we arrived at Abetone, and stocked up on filled focaccias at a local lodge to compliment packed up leftovers from the NYE dinner. Before I knew it we're all on ski lifts heading up what felt like a pretty steep slope (we later confirmed that yes, it was a black), free on account of it being new year's day. Nice one Italy.
We luncheoned with the best of them, now at 1711m, and enjoyed a drop of vino rosso from the bar up top to warm the inners. There was a lot of chatter, in languages I try but can't reliably follow, so I drank my wine and ate my byrek and soaked up the blanketed mountains and their contrast to yesterday's shores.
Later, a handful of the squad took their first steps on the slopes - not down that black run, you'll be pleased to know, but in the safety of a beginner area - while the rest of us hung around the local village. In need of a bit of alone time, at one point I took myself for a wander and stumbled upon yet another little Christmas market. Quaint as they come, at one of the stalls I picked up a hand painted wooden decoration, always now a memory of that snowy new year's day.
Next Up: Florence
Fresh from a longer sleep after all that crisp, cold air, we set off as a pair once again to spend the next two days in Florence. We were keen to pack in a lot of culture, as although A has spent a lot of time in the city (his favorite) he hadn't visited many of the museums. The discoteche I am sure he is much more familiar with.
We started at Palazzo Medici Riccardi, home of the family that basically funded the Italian Renaissance. Now housing some much sought after frescos and more than a couple of fancy chandeliers, it also has exhibition spaces. A bonus part of the visit therefore was learning about the work of Felice Carena, and I left with a soft spot for this 1933 piece, Portrait of Donatella (Donatella writing).
After leaving their former house we headed over to the family's personal church: Cappelle Medicee. Relatively unassuming from the outside, especially when compared with the grandeur of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, we were more than pleasantly surprised by the Cappella dei Principi. The magnificence of the circler room with a ceiling so high it made my neck hurt to look up left us near speechless. All I could manage was: You can't even imagine the level of wealth, can you?
I still can't.
All that Baroque beauty (and thinking about where I might find myself a modern day Medici family to fund my creative endeavours) left us peckish. As A started Googling the best recommendations around, my ever-analogue self looked down at the street we were in and suggested a place within eyesight. He conceded that Crudi e Bollicine was indeed a good choice when we looked at the plentiful schiacciata offerings, and managed to quench our thirst with a pink tipple too (mine with added bubbles).
Fed and watered (well, wined), we set off on a long walk through the city, spending half the afternoon taking in the Cathedral from every angle. Again I marvelled at the unimaginable wealth. We debated climbing the tower, but the tickets being sold out for the next two days made the decision for us. Not to self to book in advance next time.
We ventured by Palazzo Vecchio, outside of which a copy sculpture of Michelangelo's David resides, and over to Ponte Vecchio. Ever iconic as a jewellery quarter, I indulged in a spot of window shopping and was surprised to see it wasn't all six figure diamonds on offer. Some pieces were rather affordable, so if you're in the market to treat yourself or someone special, it’s worth a browse.
Eventually we reached Palazzo Pitti and braced ourselves to lap up the final cultural offering of the day. At this point, my feet - in the boots, which may not have been made for walking but walk in them I shall - were starting to feel the ever increasing steps as we surpassed 10km of meandering.
Despite the ache, I happily persevered through another palace tied to the infamous Medicis (though originally built by the equally important Pitti family), offering up more chapels, banquet halls, bedrooms and mazes of displayed art. It was a lot to take in for flagging tourists, but did include a few stand out pieces, including this one below I was papped being captivated by. Featuring three women around a lamplit table, taken by a news story one appears to be reading from the paper, tantilising enough that the elder has put down her book, and the other has paused with what looks to be lace making. Who were they? What were they talking about? Was it a women-only house or were they having a break from the men? Now I know not the artist nor the painting’s name (too busy looking to snap the deets) but though an art geek I am not, it does feel pretty magical when you find a piece that in some way speaks to you.
A bonus of the Palace (for me at least, my partner less so) was the Museum of Costume and Fashion, charting gowns from the 18th century up to modern day wares from the likes of Gucci and Versace. Not unlike an exhibition you might find in London's V&A, it was a luxury to see something like this so quiet. As closing time approached I pretty much had these dresses to myself (losing A along the way). Heaven.
Before the guards had to march us out, we marched ourselves off in search of dinner. Eventually settling on a steakhouse (Florentine, of course), as we were seated, complimentary glasses of prosecco and a little bite of a house special were set down to tide us over as we settled in and perused the menu. London restaurants: take note please. Dinner was bountiful, and a bottle of red went down too easily.
Arriving at the hotel we'd booked for the evening was a welcome celebration as my weary feet (and eyes) longed for a rest. After a kerfuffle at the reception (fellow travellers, be sure you always have your passport to hand over at check in...) we eventually got to the room with a bed to starfish on and a bathroom featuring Acqua di Parma toiletries. Enough said.
We took it slow the next morning, enjoying a leisurely breakfast, and debating whether we might actually stay in the library lounge of the Palazzo Lorenzo Hotel, but off we went, this time braving the rain, to Museo Nazionale del Bargello.
An impressive courtyard offered doorways into rooms filled with sculptures from the greats, cabinets full of ceramics, and so many collections of artefacts that I'd suggest one relies on their own eye to be drawn to what is of interest. For me a gigantic Bible stand was quite something as I pondered how big that book would have been.
With the museum closing at 1:50pm sharp (I'm not kidding) we found ourselves once again amongst the last of the revellers, and headed out for a pitstop to digest all that history. With A beginning to get cultured out, I suggested perhaps we head to the market area and let me have a little shop while he fuelled up on espressos. He didn't disagree, and so a while later I was the proud new owner of a handcrafted cream leather bag, the perfect size to fit a book, for which I managed to haggle a not too shabby discount. Cash pays.
The rest of the afternoon and into the early evening was spent wandering the cobbled streets, sampling various bars (for coffee and something stronger), and stopping off at interesting looking churches, of which there are plenty around the city.
We had hoped to tackle the Uffizi, but couldn't quite muster the enthusiasm required for a museum schlep that requires, according to the guides, a good 4 hours.
Next time.
A Slow Saturday: Lamporecchio and Vinci
Back in the vibes of more provincial life, the next morning we headed out to the local square for breakfast, before taking a stroll through the local park, heading up to Villa Rospigliosi - casually a summer residence of the Pope in times gone by. Lamporecchio may not be known for much, apart from - especially to Italians - Brigidini (an aniseed biscuit) but it is full of hidden charm.
Later that afternoon, a family lunch ensued at a hilltop restaurant in the city of Vinci - birthplace of Leonardo. There was bread bigger than my head (interestingly baked into a giant hand), antipasti galore, and plates of pasta - all before the main course. In an attempt to walk off the three hour affair, we headed to the Museo Leonardiano di Vinci, and up the steps of another bell tower to look out over fields of vineyards and olive groves and history-filled villas. Just as the sun was starting to set, the view was quite simply breathtaking.
If you really want to learn about his life’s work, do allow a good few hours to get through all the galleries of Leo’s museum, spread around several buildings in the small city.
A final pit stop: Pisa
The next morning, not quite believing we'd be waking up to work the following day, we packed up (including, yes, an extra suitcase) and did a few rounds of goodbyes before heading to Pisa. We didn't have chance for too much sightseeing this time, but stopped off for a bit of sustenance with a view of the leaning tower. More market stalls called, but calling louder were a car full of overpacked bags, and so off to the airport we went.
On the flight back, with an oddly-timed evening cappuccino, and a few chocolates I had tucked in my bag, I journalled about the latest happenings and tried to digest my thoughts and feelings on all that had been experienced in the recent days.
Full of carbs, culture and an extra case of things to find space for (not all mine, I will add) I was glad to return to my own shower, and bed, grateful for all we'd squeezed into the days since I'd relished lounging on the sofa back in Wales.
A new approach to bringing in the New Year, and one that may very well be replicated in years to come.
If you enjoyed this tour of a beautiful Italian region and would like to show some support without a paid subscription, a new year Ko-fi coffee is always a welcome gift.☕