Deal with it.
Thursday 23 September
After a frustrating two hours trying to connect online to call home, I made it downstairs by my appointed time to give a short talk about the Medici family. Florence is essentially Medici-world, as the hub-unit and I call it. What they didn't originally pay to have made, they pretty much bought it out from under someone else to obtain it. They had the biggest houses and the biggest bars on the windows as a result. They were the most powerful family, saw themselves fall out of favor, get banished and excommunicated, then build themselves back up again. Over hundreds of years of course, but more than once. They apprenticed artists, architects and musicians and lived a lifestyle more lavish than the Kennedys, Rockefellers, or Astors combined.
The last Medici left everything to the city of Florence, and we are the better for it.
We took a morning walk over to the Accademia for our appointment time and saw the David. It truly is a marvel. I will never get over the idea that you could blink and he will just step off the pedestal some day. Okay, he's rather tall, and it would be noticed if a giant pale guy went roaming about, but from the back of the room he looks like he's alive and just resting to move his pose. An absolutely breathtaking work of art, and to think that Michelangelo carved it from a flawed piece of marble.
We left everyone off at the Piazza del Duomo to decide what the wanted to do for the remainder of the day. It's not like it's hard to figure out something to do when you're standing in front of the church which has amazing frescoes on the inside of the dome, he possibility of climbing up into the dome, climbing the belltower or going to the Baptistery where the mosaics will scare the religion into you. Or there's half a million stores to shop in to pick up your Italian shoes (a specialty in Florence, as all are leather goods) or gelato to be had every ten yards.
I opted to go to the Museo dell'Opera del Duomo, the museum for the works of the Duomo. I've been there many times and posted on it too, but I will go back again and again to see the Michelangelo Pieta and Donatello's Mary Magdalene (see posts from February 2009 if interested.) A number of the clients came with me, but it wasn't an official touring outing. I don't mind that they followed me for this jaunt, it is worth seeing and often overlooked in a city of amazing art and architecture.
I was happy to see the clients moved by the same pieces that move me, so it was worth it.
That evening I had dinner with Frank at Trattoria ZaZa; my choice this time. We both had ribollita soup and I had a roast chicken with potatoes, he had pork cutlets. Yum!
I was still frustrated with the internet situation and tried to read instead. Tried to fall asleep, but that wasn't working either. I ended up going out at 1130 or so to walk around, and found myself in a pub on the north side of the center of town. I don't usually walk around Florence at night by myself because there can be sketchy folks, but when I saw this pub I had to stop in. It was full of Brits, Irish, Welsh and Australians and they were loud. No sketchy characters were getting in to bug these people.
(Looks like a negative, but this is the Piazza del Duomo at night. Ghostly marble buildings.)Had a great time, was bought more rounds than I should have had, sang rugby fight songs as a group of five guys walked me back to the hotel. They had to go past it to get to theirs, it's not like I'm special or anything... And I slept.
Friday 24 September
Dragged myself out of bed and gave my talk about the plague. Sounds disturbing, but plagues do usually have a good residual effect in the long run. It can alleviate overcrowding in the cities, and usually brings about temporary changes in sanitation.
We struck out for Santa Croce, a beautiful church along the river Arno where the major denizens of the city are either entombed or have funerary monuments there. Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli, Ghiberti, Rossini, Marconi, Barsanti, Fermi. You get the idea.
On the way back we stopped at the Ponte Vecchio for pictures. Everyone had the remainder of the day. I chose to go across the river to the Palazzo Pitti to catch the last day of the Caravaggio exhibit in honor of the 400th anniversary of his death. Amazing artwork from a twisted individual in his day. Dark, dark things came from that man.
I got a few texts from my friend Serena in Venice. She and the other ladies who work in the bar at "The Consulate" all had the same night off and they were on their way to Florence for the night. That they work for the same hotel chain we stay in is extremely convenient, because as employees they get deep discounts (sometimes no charge) to stay at the hotels in other cities. I called her back and verified they were coming to the Excelsior and they were already on the train. She clarified that there was one room for the three of them, so I offered her to share mine if she wanted, so there was more space for Luana and Dania because I have two beds in my room in Florence. Whoo hoo.
They arrived at the hotel around 630 and proceeded to primp for 90 minutes. Hello, ladies, this is too much. Then again, they are the single ones on the prowl. I'm just the old aunt making funny quips in the corner. But watch out when you go drinking with lady bartenders. They may end up taking over the bar to get a drink exactly how they want it.
It was a great night. At one place a Brit came up to talk to me. He had been staring at me for about 10 minutes. Oh boy, here it comes... what can he possibly open with? He introduced himself, and Serena introduced us all to him, ending with me, by calling me Kricka, what my Venetian-area friends all now call me.
"Cricket? That's lovely."
"No, Kricka, but you can call me Kris."
"Oh, so you aren't Italian as well?" (How in the hell could I look any LESS Italian compared to the girls I'm with?)
"No, I'm American."
"Oh, then you may know this already. You look like someone on the television programs." This is always a loaded question for me. Camryn Manheim, Delta Burke, Monica Lewinsky. I'm plus-sized, I get it...
There's a program called Mad Men we have in the UK now, from the US. (I nodded in recognition.) You remind me of the actress... Christina Hendricks, is it?" I told him I was indeed flattered (I was, even if it was a line...) but I don't resemble her.
"Only in the breasts, Charles. That's how I resemble her."
"Oh, and in the hair." Ah, so when I pin my hair up and "take the girls" out I am Joan. Whoo hoo! I may keep this shade of red after all. And maybe I should go to Hollywood and be a chest double for Ms. Hendricks, for lighting purposes and such. Ha.
So at that point Serena takes my camera and snaps a picture of my chestal region with it, and one on her phone, and asks Charles if he wants her to send it to him. He laughed but declined.
"To remember your meeting with Joan, sir." She's a little hellcat tonight, that Sere! And she proceeded to send the picture to everyone that works at the bar in Venice. Um, thanks. Can't wait to get back and see the ribbing I'm going to get for this.
I ended up having a great conversation with a gay couple from Ohio, Ken and Tim, who used to live in Reno. Interesting guys. We left at 1AM, with Serena getting hot & heavy with some guy all the way back to the hotel in dark corners. Dania and Luana and I laughed all the way back that the poor guy was in for it, taking up with her. She's a maneater. And we sang the song for them.
From behind us you could hear her calling back to us, "È orribile streghe!" You horrible witches.
I went up to the room and didn't know whether she'd come in and actually sleep. She did, around 2AM. Girls' night out was a blast. We'll have to do it again sometime.
Saturday 25 September
I left Serena sleeping it off with the alarm clock set for her to get up and catch the train back home with Dania and Luana. I went to give my breakfast talk about the Bonfire of the Vanities, the episode of uber-religiousness brought to us by the Dominican priest Savanarola in the late 1400s. The focus was originally intended to throw out and destroy objects that were considered a temptation to sin, but overzealousness got the better of him, and he was soon preaching about the immorality of objects as well. His hold on the city was destructive, but it didn't last long. Within two years of his coming to public notice, he was excommunicated and executed by the Pope he spoke out against so vehemently.
After the morning in the Uffizi museum, I decided it was time to tend to my own vanities. I went to a beauty parlor and had a manicure-pedicure. Loved it! Then late in the evening in my room I cut my hair and colored it. No more mistaking me for Joan on Mad Men, that color was a bit orange for me. I am now a deep cherry/chestnut brown. The hotel concierge commented on it the next morning. "Ciliego e Castagno. Brava!" I wanted to let the staff know, even though I didn't stain anything. I just didn't want them to call Interpol thinking I was on the run or something. Actually, I just needed an extra towel for a shower...
Sunday morning we say Arrivederci Firenze and take the train up to Venezia. My home sweet home, kind of.
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