Florence

Yesterday I had an amazing time. After venting on my blog I felt better. Then I went out to wander Florence. I walked through the old part of the city---oh, wait: it's all old!---down to the church of which I wrote yesterday, only to find out it cost more than I thought to get in. Oh well. Walked toward the river on a back road and found a little square with lemon trees against peeling bright yellow fresco on the way. The view from the river is very pretty. I think I need to be near water at least once a day to feel good. Crossed the river, exchanged picture-taking with some Italian-speaking tourists, walked past a gorgeous little public garden and found my way to the big palace of the Pitti and Medici families.

There were two options: ticket A was the royal apartments and modern art museum, etc. Okay. But ticket B was the Boboli Gardens, some other stuff, and a costume museum. OKAY. I have been looking at fine art and architecture this whole trip so I needed to switch it up, so I chose option B. The costume museum was very cool: fine Italian clothes (full dress) from the late 1700s until now plus an exhibit of clothes removed from the graves of three members of the Medici family who died in the 1500s. Amazing and a little creepy, especially since the rooms were dark to protect the brittle fabric. The clothes are partially decomposed (of course) and readerboards provided explanations of who the people were, how and when they died, how they were buried, and how and why the clothes were removed and restored; as well as drawings of how the clothes would have looked.

The Boboli gardens turned out to be extensive manicured land above the palace on a hill overlooking Florence. Okay, it was about 90 degrees out but I did it. I'm a trooper, and I have an umbrella.

After that I bought the world's best cup of mixed fruit from a vendor (world's best simply because it hit the spot) and then wandered over the shopping bridge and back to the hostel. Later in the evening I took a bus (which proved to be an adventure, as I'm incompetent at city travel) to the famous Pilatzo di Michelangelo, which has a bronze copy of David, and overlooks the city. Florence is pretty at night, but the hill was a zoo. There was a lot of spooning going on, which is great if you find the soundtrack of a man playing South-American flute to the tune of canned music and a noisy generator, backlit by crazy traffic, romantic. I'm being transparent, I know. The only thing better than being here alone would be being here with somebody. Oh well!

So today I have a good start on my paper, finally, and I'm realizing that 15 pages won't be so difficult once I get going. Today is a hostel, swimming pool, and Nutella sandwhiches day.

Oh, by the way, I was talking to a young couple from Canada and they had a similar experience to mine; they were shopping in the outdoor market and trying to negotiate like you're expected to, and said that they were interested in a pair of shoes but didn't think the quality warranted 25 Euro. The salesman yelled, "Okay, get out then!" We think that the secret is this: if you say anything, or even question, the quality of a store or product, it's very offensive. Even if you're not trying to insult. Even if you're asking an innocent question. And magnify this with a language barrier, and presto you have a problem of cultural dissonance. So I'll take the lesson.