Firenze

16-Settembre-2011

Firenze today.  Why is it that the Anglicized version is "Florence?"  Is that supposed to sound better?  Is it that Firenze is too hard for English speaking lips to pronounce?  Why not Fear-rent-say?  It just does not make sense to one from Nuovo York.  Qualunque! (or whatever the real translation is for, "Whatever!").

I drove up the A-1 (Ahh-uno) to the “Firenze Sud” exit.  Then we wandered around until we found a parking spot on the banks of the Arno, very close to where our son David had classes when he studied in Florence.  Not fully understanding the parking signs, Becky investigated what we needed to do by fluently asking a passerby in English, “What’s the deal on parking?”  Directed to the nearby Tabacchi (convenience store and more), we went back and forth with the helpful counter girl whose kindheartedness allows the linguistically challenged to get parking passes.  Our multitude of lottery-like parking passes on the dash, we crossed our fingers, abandoned the car and walked into town.  

No way we did that properly, particularly since we didn’t see any other cars with a pile of the passes on the dash.  The plan was to go on foot straight to the Gallerie dell'Accademia to see the statue of David… Michelangelo’s, that is currently residing in Florence, not ours, who currently resides in San Francisco, the American city, not the Italian monastery. 

But Florence is not a place where one can just dash from point A to point B.  The streets are much too crooked, and incredible sights are everywhere.  So it took us much longer than just walking time to get to the museum.  Particularly since Becky and Dave had never been to the marketplace, 

or seen Palazzo Vecchio, or the Duomo, 

or…or…or…  

To our good fortune, we were very pleasantly surprised by our ability to spend a few extra Euros to get tickets with reservations that got us in almost immediately.  Why were those others standing in the hot sun and waiting in line when four Euros gets you right in?  Particularly when you are a tourist squandering them at a record breaking pace, and you can use the time you save to squander even more Euros.

Michelangelo's David impressed, as always.  That such a figure emerged from a single block of marble is absolutely amazing.  And what a figure.  And what a pity that I conformed to the "No Photography" regulations.  The notes in the tour books say that the statue is perfectly proportioned, but I can’t agree.  I tend to think that the hands are far too large.  Dave pointed out the same for the feet, and also added that the old adage about the size of a man’s feet related to the size of other parts was clearly not true in this case. 

We window-shopped on the way to eat.  Unfortunately, Dave could not find his recommended trattoria, and due to the late afternoon hour, the one that had been recommended to me by a one time resident was closing.  So we settled for another that was a bit off the beaten path and happy to serve us.  Not only that, the food was quite good.  

Ponte Vecchio across the Arno

The value of the trip was soon confirmed.  Becky found herself some fine leather boots.  Not wishing to be outdone, Mary picked out a necklace in a window on the Ponte Vecchio.  As the proprietor buzzed the door open, a sinking feeling came over me.  Danger, danger, Randy Fredlund!   

Upon closer inspection, the necklace revealed itself to be truly lovely and unique, and valued by the merchant at an amount equivalent to taking another two people with us from the US to Italy.  We thanked the lady and departed unladen to find gelato.  “Whatever size gelato you want, Mary.”  I’m a big spender.

The Duomo was closed to visitors by the time we returned, so we stopped for a drink and some WiFi at a café.  Dave decided he wants to own a scooter dealership in Florence.  But his dealership will be different, because they’ll be selling diesel scooters.  “They’ll sell like hotcakes.”

“And everyone will drive them over to my chain of restaurants, Funghi E Formaggio.  Or maybe Porcini E Pecorino. We’ll just call the places Mushrooms and Cheese in the American tour guides.”

We were happy to find no disaster messages from the US of A on Dave’s iPad.  At least not yet.  I sent a note to both our David and our Kate.  We will call her tomorrow on her birthday. 

We finished the Florentine tour with a stop at Piazza Michelangelo, where a bronze copy of the marble original gazes out over Firenze.   

 The sun was setting over the city, and the colors were especially vivid.  The reflected sunlight lit up the river and all the buildings of Firenze spread out below us.  Fading pink and orange clouds completed the vista.  

Back at Ortaglia, the heat of the day and the strain of the drive home went down the drain with the bathwater.  Only the memories of the great day remained.  I wandered through the villa and found Terenzio watching TV.  I told him we had seen the statue for which he had modeled.  He looked puzzled.  “David, of course,” I added.

He roared.  Grabbing his ample belly, he said, “Yes, but that was 30 years ago,”