wraps the Taxi on street Gibellinov and in a minute stops before a facade with two Roman columns. On an input - the tablet with mishlenovskimi stars (here the well-known three-star restaurant Enoteca Pinchiori) and a tiny signboard of our hotel - Relais Santa Croce. The porter in grey krylatke selects suitcases and conducts where - that upward, on a ladder with wide marches.
we rise upward , we undersign for the book of lodgers, and the girl with a southern expressive face (as it has appeared, with the person Brazilian) conducts us - me and the wife my Lena - in number. The girl smiles - whether she smiles always, whether anticipates a smile effect which Suite Dei Pepi should render on us. provozhataja brings to a nonexistent keyhole a leather case with the electronic key sewn up in it, peep, and half huge is distributed, in three metres in height of a swing door swings open. The girl waits, while we will enter inside, we will sigh, we will nervously laugh, and only then as if having convinced by that introduction in royal apartments has taken place us without victims, enters itself. We with Lena sit down in armchairs, we lean back on backs and we lift up heads. Only so, apparently, it is possible to consider the frescos written on our eight-metre ceilings in any XVIII-th century. For the Renaissance they, frescos, unduly pretentious, and here for any 1750 - just right. Then my art criticism assumptions turn out to be true: papal treasurer Baldinuchi has started to build the Florentine house in 1700, but time, speaking to the modern language, final finishing 50 years when the palace has changed hands have come only later and Palatstso Chiofi - Dzhakometti began to be called. However, those Roman columns that they face an input, just from the papal banker.
We look at frescos , the Brazilian girl looks at us enough, time goes, but anybody does not hurry up anywhere. We do not hurry up, because have arrived to Florence, and here it is not necessary to hurry up; the girl does not hurry up, because at it under the authority of only 20 rooms and to each lodger it can give so much the time, how many it is necessary for it.
Excursion on apartments begins when ours provozhataja at last - that takes out us from armchairs and conducts on excursion on apartments. From a drawing room we get to a bedroom, therefrom - in a bathroom. Under number the part of the former suite is used, the bathroom is masterly entered in an interior, nothing irritates, and even the modern technics as - that not so is defiantly connected to period furniture. The girl trains us in using number, disappears, then the waiter is knocked on a door with a bottle of champagne standing on ice; At last usual vanity at entrance comes to an end, I again fall in an armchair, I get favourite Cuban sigarilly, I light one and I observe, how the smoke rises to the ceiling painted 250 years ago. Behind windows the peal is audible is in Santa Kroche beat off the whole hour.
we meet friends on Tornabuoni, in old trjufelnoj to bench Procacci, we drink franchakortu, zaedaem its tiny sandwiches with truffles and we try to agree about a supper. Friends drag us in any treasured small restaurant, we drag friends to us, in Relais Santa Croce. We would like to show the apartments, to sit in a house bar and to have supper at hotel restaurant as chief Marko with whom we had time to get acquainted before an exit, took from us the promise to try its cooking. Friends surrender.
We come back in a palace , we pass by prudish mishlenovskih stars, we rise on the floor, our friends lift up heads to consider frescos, and here already we - as the Brazilian girl - stand recently and we smile in expectation of effect. We take seats in armchairs of a huge musical drawing room, to us bring aperitif, and Marko Tremonte, the chief of restaurant Guelfi e Ghibellini, hastens to accept to us the order. It, apparently, on - to the present is glad to our returning. We are given in charge cooks, we ask it to think up our menu independently. Small show begins. After small compliments from the chief compliments big, then - unfairly magnificent (foie gras on - local, a truffle and so forth) follow And only then - the dishes thought up by the master: artichokes, an indispensable Florentine stake from meat kjaninskih bull-calves, improbable desserts.
then we long still sit in a smoking room , trying - one after another - liquors, grappu, filtering coffee and smoking sigarilly. Day, and behind it evening for a long time have already ended, night has come. Friends unwillingly leave our palace, Lena brings leather cheholchik with an electronic key to the lock, peep is distributed, the three-metre door is opened. We in Dei Pepi, under frescos, under thin bed-sheets, at last - that in a bed. Uffitsi, “ the Last Supper “ Girlandajo in trapeznoj Onissanti, tombs of Santa Kroche - all it will be tomorrow, and today it is necessary to sleep simply. In a palace, under eight-metre ceilings.