Italian Word of the Day: giorno festivo - "Holiday".
And here is the picture of the day:
|Eat your heart out, Sartorialist!|
Bu today I remember and Florence is as lovely as ever now that the clouds, wind and rain have departed. The doors of our apartment Il Terrazzino (meaning "little terrace") are wide open and the early evening sun begins to drop in the Tuscan sky. The swallows are having dinner, swooping about the tile rooftops. They missed a mosquito or two last night as they landed in our apartment, buzzing around my head during the night.
We slept until 11 - finally catching the lost sleep from the night across the ocean. We met Tami and Frank to go to the Accademia at 1:00 to see the David. THE David. The David. David. How do you even address it? It is just so overwhelming. It takes your breath away every time.
So, that was fun. Then, a quick lunch and we parted ways which, we have learned, is really best. Four people never want to do the same thing at the same time for the same amount of time! So Tami and I took off to shop the clothing stores - not to shop, but to look - as Tami and I met in about 1979 because we both worked at the same clothing store in Charleston, so beautiful clothing and fabrics are a shared love.
And although we did all the fancy stores along Tornabuoni, like Armani and Prada and Ferragamo, one private shop was really the one that captured us.
We did the Ferragamo museum - the perfect event without husbands in tow! Then, walked across the Arno to see the antique shops. But, alas, they were closed for the holiday (giorno festivo - don't you LOVE that word????)
Well...I should warn you now, this next matter may just be too much information, but as I had to relieve myself at about this point, we walked to a great little bar (which in Italy is a place that serves both coffee and drinks - all the while standing at a Carrara marble bar - or taking a seat for an extra price) to grab a cafe and use the bagno. It was very small and very crowded with an uber-cool, 30-something crowd. I waited my turn for the bathroom, while Tami took the drinks outside. Much to my surprise, when I entered said bagno, there was no toilet! Only a hole in the floor surrounded by ceramic - with a "trough" for your feet. Now, I grew up on a farm, I knew how to squat. But I was only 8-9 years old then. Really? They want me to squat? Lee had told me about these places - but in Rome.
Well, thank god for all those years of yoga, because I could do my squat and when I once again met Tami outside, I told her all about it and she laughed so hard she almost choked on her cafe.
Back across the Arno, to the apartment for wine on il terrazzino with Lee. The sun is streaming onto my face while I sit 4 feet from the door. Festivo or no festivo, life is good. And here is the evidence:
|The butcher cutting my proscuitto. We noticed how pristine his tools were.|
|From our terrace. The Cappelle di Medici. The bells are so beautiful|
|Tami and Lee|
|Audrey Hepburn's last at the Ferragamo Museum|
|A very cute store.|
|From the Uffizzi|