The first thing I have written down from Florence is that I saw a guy whose shirt simply said "WINNING TEAM" and a restaurant called "Bakery's Pizza." Up next: "Italy is a world leader in old men on bikes." If those aren't great ads for Italian tourism I don't know what is.
I spent my first morning waiting to get into the Accademia to see the David. I was stuck behind an 11-year-old Yankees fan who wasn't afraid to badmouth my World Series Champion Red Sox, but we managed to get along fine after he found out I'd gone to Michigan (he got that one right, at least). The David was huge - it's ironic that after slaying a giant he became one himself. I then ventured over to the Medici Palace to see their chapel, which I wrote about for one of my first term courses, and which was incredible. Neither place had much going on except for the main events, but both were spectacular.
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| David 1 |
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| David 2 |
That night I spent at the hostel, drinking cheap supermarket beer and watching soccer with some new friends, both Englishmen. I'd met them just hours before but we'd somehow gotten to a point where we were discussing our futures with each other. Even correcting for the beer, it was refreshingly honest and I appreciated it in the midst of hostel small-talk. I passed out fairly early, rose fairly early, and went to the Duomo on a cappuccino/croissant buzz right around opening time. I hadn't realized beforehand that visitors were allowed to climb to the top, and I was ecstatic to be able to see the entire city from up there - it's a shame that's not allowed at St. Paul's back here in London. In addition to
that view, I also accidentally saw a woman's breast - I glanced down to look at her baby (who'd waved to me during our ascent) without realizing she'd been breastfeeding and my timing was wrong. Another rosary, I guess?
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| Top of Duomo from Bell Tower |
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| Bell Tower from top of Duomo |
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| Duomo fresco |
My final night in Florence was spent in the Piazza della Repubblica, eating a panini and drinking wine (recommendations from friends from Italy and Michigan, respectively). I met a friendly Dutchman who worked for Bose, who showed me some photos he'd taken of a strange team wrestling sport that we'd seen being played in front of Santa Croce but didn't understand at all. I had a few pints, watched England lose, and went to bed ready to move on to Venice and the Biennale.
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| I Forget What This Was |
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| Zits |
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| Duomo, interior |
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| Santa Croce |
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| C'mon Man |
