Tuesday 5 October - Oh No, It's Da Fuzz & I Think They Should Be Taking My Friend Away for Atrocious Dancing In Public

I gave the breakfast talk about the World of the Medici. I think I should trademark the phrase Mediciworld, seriously. It's kinda catchy and certainly descriptive and definitive. We set out for the Accademia on the northside of the City Central. Have I told you how much I hate walking in Florence? It's a twenty minute walk, but the cobblestones of Florence are brutal on me; they always have been. Every time I start thinking about my feet and ankles crying out in protest I stifle it - if an 83 year old woman can do it I need to shut the hell up.

Mamma was more mesmerized by the Prisoner series of statues by Michelangelo than by the David. Afterward the group broke up and we made a quick pass through the San Lorenzo market for souvenir shopping (like I need another scarf - but these are different, I swear!) and then to the Duomo with Mamma. It's really cool to see her so excited by seeing these things in person for the first time. Of course we stayed for the noon Mass. Can't pass up a church service, this woman.







We walked to Piazza Santa Croce and had lunch at a favorite restaurant, Boccadama. I was in need of a giant salad and some ribollita soup. This place doesn't disappoint.





Got back the hotel to change before a little office hour session. I'm on the second floor and had the window open. I could hear dispatch squawking radio squelching. Too many years in dispatching makes me know this. I looked out the window and down to the street below to see police down there. Lots of police. Seventeen of them, in their riot helmets, shields and bulletproof vests. It made me a little nervous. I called down to the concierge and didn't get an answer as to what was happening or expected to be happening out there. I pointed my camera out there and received a whistle in return to get my attention, then finger wagging and "No nononono" motioning. I didn't want to end up getting my room bumrushed by the riot squad so I opted not to take the photo.

I made my way downstairs to the lobby, and asked Marco to help me out with finding out what was going on out there. Mr. Venice Concierge talked to his colleague, Mr. Florence Concierge and got me the scoop: there was a planned protest by the university students on the Ponte Vecchio, only a half block from the hotel, but that took only a few minutes. Not much of a protest if you ask me... However the Police wanted to keep a presence at the bridge since there are travel advisory warnings for terrorists at all major sites in Europe right now. Ugh. Of course I had a few questions from clients about what it all was about. I did respond with the truth and was met with "Oh my God, we're going to be attacked." Considering this was from a New Yorker, I tried to deflect a panic attack by telling her there wasn't any word that Florence was expected to get an attack any more than any other city in Europe. It is just chatter at this point. I think it's more likely to be in Paris or London, actually, but didn't share this feeling with the client. Why would they target Florence? Thanks for stirring things up, France. Let women wear their damned burqas. It will make my clients less panicky. Because it's all about me, you know.



(pretty yummy things displayed in windows)

Went with the Marsons and Frank for dinner at a little trattoria near the hotel. Mamma wanted a quick dinner and to go to sleep. We all thought that was a good idea. It's been a big couple of days for her and she's going home tomorrow.

With Mamma safely tucked in for the night, Marco and I headed over to that pub I had been to the last time I was in Florence, when I made friends with the Brits and Aussies. Well on Tuesdays it's apparently reggae night at the pub. We drank too much and I got to witness my BIF (Best Italian Friend) try his hand at dancing to it. It was kind of ugly and uncomfortable to watch, but certainly entertaining as all getout. I should have filmed it and was really sorry I didn't have my Flip camera with me.

Remember that 80s movie "Can't Buy Me Love" with Patrick Dempsey? He is getting ready to go to a school dance and he thinks he's studying American Bandstand for dance moves de rigeur but instead he learns from a National Geographic type show on the African Anteater Ritual.

Here's the dance scene from the movie to give you an idea of what horror I was witness to. Arms akimbo, flailing and spastic. That's my boy...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxIrQPffSIg

He had a good time, at least, so I won't knock him. Much.


(stupid Guido hairdo's - they're not just in Jersey...)