Florence. 8/7/08.

Every quaint Italian hotel in which we stayed served a free breakfast that we woke up and rolled out of bed to each morning.  Prosciutto, croissants, and cappuccino became essential parts of my morning diet.  This particular day, we hit the breakfast buffet then headed out to the museums.  Everything was within walking distance of our hotel, which made our New York-trained feet happy.  At the Uffizi, we saw da Vinci’s Annunciation, Michelangelo’s Holy Family, and Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.  Next was lunch at Trattoria Alfredo (pasta with gorgonzola and a mixed salad).  We walked along the Ponte Vecchio, stopping in a few shops to check out jewelry, then headed to the Duomo cathedral.  Inside, we lit candles and said prayers in this oasis of shadowy stillness where women had to cover their shoulders (I had been warned and brought my NYC $5 street-bought pashmina).  Next was the Accademia, otherwise known as the home of Michelangelo’s David. (B’s quote: “Who made that again?”  Our brains were in a state of cultural overload.)

All that ART and edumacation made us hungry for a mindless activity, so after some illicit cell-phone pictures (not with my incapable phone, naturally) were taken of David’s…anatomy (yes we are five years old), we headed to the San Lorenzo street market and stocked up on the essentials: leather goods and Ciao Bella t-shirts.  And maybe a few postcards of David’s anatomy to send home.  (I loved imagining the look on Dad’s face when he pulled that out of the mailbox…that’s what she said?)

After a shower and change at the hotel, we walked to dinner at the Golden View, on the other side of the Arno River across the Ponte Vecchio.  Unlike most of the restaurants we visited in Italy, this one was sleek and modern.  The downstairs bathroom even boasted two flushers in each toilet, in the form of buttons:  press 1 for number ones, and…well, you get the picture.  Our waiter Alessando got the party started RIGHT by presenting each of us with a glass of Prosecco as soon as we sat down.  The food was amazing–salad with honeyed pears, walnuts, and sheep’s milk cheese was followed by a culinary masterpiece: a combined half pepperoni pizza and half prosciutto and cheese calzone.  All washed down with the house red and white wines, naturalmente.

After dinner we walked back across the Ponte Vecchio and were met by a crowd of people surrounding a guitar-playing duo.  Without speaking, we all hung back and listened as they played “Homeward Bound.”  A sun setting in the background completed what felt like a perfect scene and I watched it all giving silent prayers of thanks for a trip that felt like a long time coming, but totally worth the wait.

We stopped for gelato on the other side of the bridge and ate it while walking “home.”  My journal entry from that night quotes Psalm 32:7–“You surround me with songs of victory.”  Who knew that would include Simon and Garfunkel?

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