The Night of Firenze

No travel log is complete, nor accurate without a reflection on the city's struggles. Every city without fail , because it is inhabited by humanity, has flaws and an undercurrent of darkness. The only difference for us as visitors, is we candidly observe without responsibility except for the issue of dog owners not picking up their dog's poop , and then it becomes personally messy and frustrating.

 But, I would go so far as to say we enjoy watching some of the street games because we don't know all the rules of engagement. Let me explain. It is against the law to sell or purchase Fakes; designer watches, purses, sunglasses and art work posters. Italy is also challenged with a flood of illegal immigration from northern Africa. Combine the two and you have young guys hocking wares on the streets, illegally, trying to make a new life for themselves and most likely for their families in Africa. We have dubbed them The Entrepreneurs.

They play a game with the carbinieri which is brilliant and marvelous to watch.

Working as a team, a spotter will spy the police  approaching.....  and then their illegal wares are completely wrapped up and they are gone in seconds. This is no exaggeration. The sunglasses are attached to card board that lays flat  atop  a V-shaped card board stand. Both pieces of cardboard are folded in half and gone, looking like an art portfolio. The "Gucci" purses are all on a bed sheet that is swooped and gone, looking like Santa's sack. The art posters are laid slightly overlapping so they can be fanned closed with the ease of a deck of cards and magically gone.... Depending on the cops' actions, whether they just park and sit in their car staring , stand at a distance,or take chase, the entrepreneurs either run into dark, narrow streets or just stand behind a column and stare back. It is the  classic cat and mouse, cops and robbers,with a very rare confrontation or take down. But when they do- move over Bond chases!

Another interesting play on the streets, are the gypsy  begging women. Long full skirts, sweaters, scarves and open toed sandals, always with brightly striped socks.  We have witnessed turf wars between the women themselves, passed one scurrying by on her way to work , to where later when we see her, she is crippled. Another instance saw  a kind Italian man buying Cinderella shoes for a little girl pictured, held in the  hand of a beggar woman.He took the gyspy woman into the Disney store , paid for the shoes and left, leaving the woman marvelling at her treasure. You could see in her eye, living the imminent joy that would be on her little girl's face. But also be  careful where you walk ,for sometimes these women are laying prostrate on the sidewalk. I know for I have almost tripped flat over one. They work the tourist filled piazzas hard from early morning to early evening.

These night shades of  Firenze  brighten other dazzling stars that also demand attention. The musicans fill the loggias, piazzas, bridges and cobblestones with their opera and pop, guitar, flute, accordian and  stringed quartets, making the evening walks lyrical and always enchanting. (I want to dance but an unnamed teen would rather die!) 

Chalk artists painstakingly copy masterpieces  on the pavers to do another the next day after the street cleaners washed thru. 

The uplit bridges, towers and cupolas  serve as the planets that are bright and solid beacons of hope and history, which move humanity forward.

Stones Piled Together

Once again, Randy and I, and this time Hannah too, headed out of tourist infested Florence into the Tuscan countryside. We left for the day to visit a few hilltowns, driving a zippy Punto! The day was about the journey, not the destination, though the two hilltowns were spectacular. Randy drove, Hannah learned to navigate and I lounged in the back. My story that I am sticking with is; Hannah needed the front seat so she could take pictures and not get car sick. 

Our first stop was Monteriggioni, “Italy’s Most Perfectly Preserved Fortified Town”. This little town, near Siena was Dante’s inspiration for his description of the “circle of titans guarding the lowest level of Hell.”  It still has all 14 square towers of its fully intact 13th C. circular medieval walls. Monteriggioni is so tiny with it's two streets and one main piazza and seemed more like heaven than hell. Delightfully picturesque. It is along the Francigena Pilgrimage Path from Cantebury to Roma. (Insert Here; idea seeds for next trip!)

 We continued on our merry way to Volterra, another hilltop Tuscan town perched high, between two valleys, with its own unique flavour. Volterra is known for alabaster, one of my favourite stones. It is like the agate, opaque, translucent to light, in varying colours. The church windows were done in alabaster. Shops were filled with all sorts of Alabaster creations. 

Volterra  was an Estruscan settlement from  the 9th C BC., a town bigger than what exists today. All that remains today of that era are one city gate, funery urns and  tombs. The Romans conquered the Etruscans and left their mark. Ruins of an amphitheater were amazing to see, peering down over the edge of town. Randy, our ever present historian pointed out that we, standing there today, are closer in time to the period of the Renaissance (and the Medici fort built at one end of town) than the Romans were to the founding of Volterra, during the Estrucan period of time. 

It is thoughts like these that befuddle my brain and again affirm the tension of embracing fully this thing called life. Our lifespan, that is but a mere hairbreadth in time. Humbling. 

In WW2, the townspeople banded together to protect the Estruscan gate, their town symbol, made of large tufa stones, from being bombed by the Germans. They ripped up the cobbles from the main street and plugged it. Their plan succeeded.

I guess it is these stories of history that enrich and make these stones piled together, called walls and towns, come alive for me. My imagination is wild, and together with Randy, have woven imagined tales of intrigue, deception and heroism! 

 The undulating, weaving drive home did not disappoint any of us. The journey brought more pullout vista points to photograph and drink in. A question posed in the Punto was,” what makes Tuscany so appealing?”

The agreement was the lolling hills, with patched patterns of symmetrical groves and linear vineyards, and scattered seeds of beckoning homesteads, saying “Come.” The springtime countryside is fresh green, the colour of growth, opportunity and hope.The hills are not impenetrable and daunting like the majestic mountains in BC, nor are they dark and mysterious like the ocean. The tuscan geography wants to share, give and do life with any who are like-minded.

  

Camping in Florence

At the mid-point in our "time out in Tuscany," I feel relaxed and content. We are never bored, but the pace is definitely slow. This week we meandered around Florence. Outside the old City walls, we climbed up to the view terrace, piazzale Michelangelo. Everyone always looks north west from the piazzale to the "Classic" view of Florence - the Duomo and historic centre. I decided to go away from the crowds to the other end of the terrace and look eastward, up the Arno. The view of the campground that David Tyrell and I tented at in 1982 came into full view (see photo). I had almost forgot about this place. We never experienced the campground with the spring blossoms. It brought back fond memories of the very first time I visited Florence. Two graduate architects, photographing and sketching many of the buildings we had seen in pictures. One thing I do know is that a comfortable bed with the woman I love is waaaaaay better than a sleeping bag, in a tent, on hardened earth. Sorry, Dave....... Sandy and I are having the time of our lives here and savouring every moment.  

Happy Easter - Buona Pasqua

Returning from the Chianti countryside to Florence is akin to crawling out from under your warm comfy patchwork down quilt that enveloped you in your private, quiet bedroom and opening your door straight into a cold, shopping street on Christmas Eve. Easter in Florence is one of the busiest weekends, if not the busiest, of the entire year. The city is flooded with  Catholics on  pilgrimage, foreign students and Italian families gathering.

 Randy, Hannah and I have been looking forward to this weekend before we left Canada and we were not disappointed  in the least. This Easter weekend will be a highlight moment for the rest of our lives. We were grateful to have Rachael with us. I must certainly add  family is the ingredient missing, especially Luke, but we are gifted in having Boots, Betty and Jess here to share it with us. To capture the weekend  we will give a day to day breakdown  and watch the video.....

Good Friday dawned in brilliant sun. The Episcopalian church was doing a "Nine Stations of the Cross" walk through the historic centre of Florence, so Randy and I thought that would be cool.  Upon arrival at the church we discovered that the walk would be back in our neighborhood so I called the girls and told them to meet us in a piazza.  What we would soon discover is that the walk included individuals in the group carrying a cross as we walked through the streets packed with thousands of people. There were 8 people in the group, including some older women in dresses and heels. You do the math and think about Randy and I... It was inevitable we would have to carry the cross. My personal conflict of emotion inside was stunning and shocking. I was embarassed to be seen with a rag tag group of Protestants, angry and chagrined at self, internally confronting myself to step up and identify  publicly with Jesus yet trying to remain unseen.  It was  a shadow of the original Good Friday for the disciples and not even on the radar screen compared to Jesus' humiliation. Randy, being the largest and healthiest of all, carried it across town into the piazza where we met the girls. Imagine the shock that was on their faces as Randy lead the group into the main piazza.  The throngs of people were staring or indifferent, carrying on and making comments about Randy as "a blonde Jesus."  Hannah and I also carried the cross through sections of town. She now has a bruised shoulder. It was a healthy, sobering and powerful exercise. Would you carry the cross?

Saturday

We spent the day shopping and preparing for Sunday dinner. 

Easter Sunday What was the main reason we looked forward to Easter in Florence? Easter Sunday morning was the annual "Scoppio del Carro." Explosion of the cart. Hannah and I arrived in Piazza del Duomo around 8:30am and the fireworks didn't happen till 11:15am. Sandy joined us on the edge of the barricade after we had been there an hour and the place was already ringed with thousands of people. Like everyone else, we stood the whole time like vertical sardines waiting and watching. Around 10:30am a parade of multi-coloured "renaissance" costumed flag bearers, drummers, trumpeters, crossbow and spear carriers marched into the piazza. The festive procession was followed by 4 white oxen pulling an enormous cart, full of fireworks. See attached video. The explosion and light show were worth the wait. Loud and bright. What an unusual Easter tradition.

Our Easter dinner was next and is never complete without including someone who is without their  family or friends so our table was graced with a young art student, Laura, from  Maine USA.

Randy and I incorporated some Italian Easter traditions at the beginning and end of the meal. Our  first course was boiled eggs (new life), and spinach (the bitter herbs of the Passover). For dessert we enjoyed big, glorious chocolate eggs with prizes inside and Colomba (dove shaped Easter bread that is the Italian version of paska).

The day ended in the wee early morning with an iChat  at the Johnson clan dinner. 

Buona Pasqua!

Fresh Air

Sometimes the journey is as much as the destination itself and sometimes more. Randy/Mr.GPS must have read my blog last week or he is really really good at keeping secrets! He cut me off at the pass  and  had plenty of air in the car because it was a convertible and he let me drive the most! For extra mileage it was the modern model of my dream car..... Randy had us cruising  Chianti in a red, Alfa Romeo Spider. The sun was shining, the roads were undulating and seductively curvaceous. Romeo, (so I named the car) was so happy to be out of Firenze's car rental parking garage, that he performed outstandingly!  Randy and I shared the delight of being in control of the wheel, but believe me, my grin was bigger this time, which made my cheeks ache. My biceps definitely got a workout from  going hard into the 'S' turns! Quintessentially perfect days in every conceivable way! Getting out of the city into the fresh awakening of the countryside was invigorating and affirming to us. The roads were empty so we pushed Romeo a little, all the while, taking in the smells of the budding wisteria, the tall stately cypresses scenting the air and the fresh grasses bursting out of their dormancy and announcing aromatically how great it is to be alive and growing!

Montepulciano was still quiet with visitors, so when we walked home from dinner in the evenings - the streets were empty except for the echo of our rhythmic footsteps. As much as we loved the getaway, we knew we had made the right choice to live in Firenze instead of the countryside for the the 3 of us.

Montepulciano

Rachael and Hannah took off from Florence for two days on their own.
We were a little nervous, but knew they could do it together. They took the train to Venice and we were alone in Tuscany.
Sandy and I took advantage of this by renting a car and taking off in the other direction, south through the Chianti region of Tuscany. We ended up staying two nights in Montepulciano, a picturesque hill town surrounded by sangiovese  vineyards and olive groves. While walking the steep, narrow streets, we came across a workshop with a 73 year old craftsman that makes copper pots and kitchen utensils. Striking up a lively conversation with him, we found out his name, Cesare Mazzetti,.... we communicated with a lot of entertaining hand gestures. He couldn't speak english and we barely speak a few words of Italian. After discovering that we were celebrating our 25th (venti-cinque) wedding anniversary, he started working a copper disk with tools and a hammer, punching in our wedding date, our initials, our childrens initials, hearts, other decorations and punched a hole at the top so we could hang it at home. We laughed together and he kept calling Sandy a "tigre," a tiger, because she looked too young to be married 25 years and Cesare told her to have more kids. Three is not enough, "Quattro" is better. He asked Sandy if I, as her husband was a "maiale" or a "gallo" (pig or a rooster). I don't see myself as either, but fortunately Sandy said a "gallo." You can check out his "Bottega del Rame" at www.rameria.com.

Siena

Mr.Wikipedia/ GPS -boy delighted Rachael's  three Capernwray friends by not only giving them a thorough tour of Florence but he also escorted them to  the perfectly maintained medieval town of Siena the next day and then prepared them for their upcoming visit in Venice.  

 For us, it was great to have them, as we got another glimpse into Rachael's experience in Spain and were able to provide them with a taste of  family. Rachael is now with us for a short time between commitments. She is the spicy salsa of our little family, bringing variety and a delightfully chaotic loudness to the table.

 As for Siena, for Randy and I, we focused on  my Art History and  an art show called Genius and Madness; featuring artists such as Van Gogh and others who went mad but still had "genius art". My only comment after recovering from the depressive, hopeless and physically nauseating display of art (except Van Gogh's) is, I am glad they make a really good truffle and beef carpaccio pizza in Siena that could be enjoyed on the fabulous Piazza del Campo in the warmth of the spring sun. Hope in mankind was once again restored.  

Today is Palm Sunday. The day Christendom celebrates Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on a donkey with the crowds waving Palm branches before him. But again , the Florentines can't do it like everyone else in the world - with Palm Branches. They have their own branches, olive branches. Who Knew? So today saw lots of people wandering the streets carrying olive branches. 

Cool thought though when you think about it. Randy and I, as we walked our 20 minutes back from our little Epsicopalian service in the morning reveled in this.

Palm branches are waved before and over royalty. And Jesus is the Ultimate Royalty.

 Yet Olive branches signify peace, a treaty, a hope often associated with the dove of Noah's Ark, (and the dove  is also symbolic of the Holy Spirit). When a royal king in biblical times, wanted to come to make peace, he would come riding in, not on a regal steed, but a donkey. So it is perfectly fitting that we waved olive branches today, Palm Sunday, because Jesus is Peace or Pace` in Italian.

Coming this week.... Chianti road trip ... Oh yeah!   Mr. GPS is driving, so the female who still struggles with her left and right will be The Navigator... Can  you feel the air being sucked out of the car already? Hopefully it will be a convertible!

Contrasts in Rome

We recently returned from 3 days in Roma. This is now the third time I have been there and I am amazed at how each experience has been remarkably different. Even when viewing the same things.

Evidence of ancient Rome, The Rome of the Caesars' is everywhere. You turn your head at a street corner, and a thick, massive ancient brick wall protrudes out into the street from the edge of a building. There is even a church (still in use today) that is built within a vast Roman bathhouse from the time of Emperor Diocletian. The heart of Rome is "The Forum." Sandy, Hannah, Rachael (who joined us from Spain) and I meandered through the Colosseum, the  Palatine Hill (the hill overlooking the Forum that was the residence of the Caesars), and the area of the Forum (the political, religious and economic centre of Rome). Several things stood out to me as we walked around; the absolute power, wealth and monumentality of the Roman Empire contrasting the small, weak and humble existence of those conquered or imprisoned. The monumental is seen in the expansive palace built on Palatine Hill for Caesar Augustus. It was much, much larger than the White House or 24 Sussex Drive, or even Buckingham Palace. Compare this with the imprisoned, who were chained up in the Mamertime prison, located at the other end of the Forum from Caesar's palace. Here, prisoners were lowered in through a hole in the ceiling, their only source of air. The cistern-like room, hewn out of rock, was small, and dark. No toilet, no bed, just cold and damp. This was the prison for high profile prisoners like defeated foreign commanders, who were kept here until they were publicly executed. Tradition says that this is where St. Peter and St. Paul were kept immediately before their martyrdoms.

Now to a lighter note. Gelato. Hannah discovered "biscotti" flavoured gelato near Piazza Navona. It was sooooo good that we had to return on a rainy day for seconds. Another favourite was "coco" (coconut), from Old Bridge gelateria, a place near the Vatican recommended by friends. We are becoming connoisseurs of gelati. I can tell because for some reason my pants are tighter. Boy, do I need a gym workout.