After just a lovely time in Venice, I traveled to Florence via the Eurostar Train network, the European answer to the Japanese bullet trains...though still not as fast. However, in a matter of 2.5 hours, I traversed 165 miles more comfortably than in a plane. It was a great and fast trip. Upon arrival, I went directly to the Sisters of Saint Elizabeth Convent on Via Michelangelo, and checked in. It’s a different experience than staying in a hostel or hotel to stay in a convent. It was very clean, regimented...almost institutional. Yet, as I expected, there was a real peace and stillness about the grounds. By far, this was the most beautiful of all my accommodations - including the Carnival Freedom. Breakfast was included in my accommodations...as were table assignments and a German-speaking tablemate. Turns out that all of the nuns and most of the guests were all German-speakers. Just when I feel like I'm getting a little more comfortable with my buongiornos and no parlo italiano...I have to switch to gutenmorgen and no sprechen zi deutch. My brain hurt. And they'd have none of this Spanish business either. Actually, the nuns did speak Italian and we were able to come to an understanding. They were especially 'understanding' when it came time to settle up the bill ☺
So, after getting settled into my cloister, I headed for Il Duomo...basically the main church at the center of downtown Florence. Although I caught a bus downtown, I was consistently amazed by how many people were walking from place to place. Of course, there was the occasional Vespa (which I now understand means "wasp" in Italian) and the gas-crises' answer to the automobile, but for the most part people just walked from point A to point B. That also probably has a lot to do with why the only overweight people I ever saw were the tourists...getting in and out of their air conditioned busses and being led around by the nose by their Disneyesque daisy-wielding, Brittany headset-wearing tour guides. I walked around old Renaissance Florence and was completely enamored by the romance, history, and rhythm of this ancient city. While being carried along by these heady currents, I was swept into a small store and got a small...very small...bowl of pistachio and coconut gelato. After I had paid my €6 and continued down the street, once again in current of the Italian Lazy River, I realized that I had paid $9 for about 1/3 of a pint of ice cream. I laughed at the irony of the effort I had exerted to find the best deals for disposable thrift store clothes before I left, only to drop a ten-spot on two scoops in Italy.
I found my way into the Medici Chapel and saw where they're buried...along with Michelangelo's sculptures to honor them. Can you believe that I actually wept when walking around looking at those sculptures? I was actually reading Irving Stone's, The Agony and the Ecstasy...the fictionalized version of Michelangelo's life, from age 13 to his death. Perhaps that's what got me all verklempt. But I had the same overwhelming experience in Venice while riding the vaporetto at sunset down the Grand Canal.
The next day I had reservations at both the Accademia and the Uffizi, two of Italy's most popular museums and galleries. These were two other spots were reservations ahead of time saved me HOURS of standing in long lines. In the Accademia, I saw Michelangelo's original David. Although I've seen copies in other cities before, I am nevertheless always astounded at the sheer beauty of this sculpture...the perfection and artistic craft that went into freeing David from his block of white marble. I also went into the Santa Croce church, and saw the burial sites of Machiavelli (said, "the end justifies the means"), Marconi the physicist, Dante Alighieri the poet, Galileo the astronomer/scientist, and Michelangelo the artist - too sobering to walk among the final resting places of these HUGE men of history. Oh, yeah...I also saw John the Baptist's little finger. There's a picture of it if you're curious...and you know you are.
My last day in Florence, I took a leisurely morning just sampling espresso at any number of bars around the old city...actually, that's really no different than any other morning I spent in Italy...and then went to a half-day cooking class in a 1000 year old castle in the hills of Tuscany. I had originally signed up for the full day class, which included a tour of a winery - Oh yeah, it’s Italy. They even drink it for breakfast. - and sampling of olive oils. I changed my plans and opted just to meet up with the group later at the castle. While I waiting for them to arrive, I went to the top of the tower and looked out over the beautiful hillside. According to the owner of the castle, it was used by the Allies in WWII as a lookout post because of its great view. My host left me with a pair of binoculars and a hammock to rest until my other "cooks" arrived. While I was waiting, I noticed all these fresh herbs that they were growing on the roof of the tower. Upon closer inspection, I noticed one particular herb that is more commonly used in "baking." You'll have to just look at my pictures. We made homemade raviolis, filled with spinach, parmesan, and ricotta cheeses, and also fettuccini. After making our pasta, we cooked them and had lunch. The class and lunch were wonderful.
After saying so long to the Sisters of Saint Sassy, I was on my way to Siena...the hill country of Tuscany.
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