Friday morning, with the sun shining brightly, and with the volcanic eruption surpressed from my thoughts, I ventured into Florence for a morning of simple exploration. With no particular agenda, I ran in to 800 year old palaces, hidden churches with secret Renaissance masterpieces, side alley bakeries with sinful fudge brownies, and street performers displaying talents ranging from Dante memorizations to classical guitar. The unfortunate part of tourism in Florence is that few have the time to simply wander, without a map, to find areas uncharted even by the infallible St. Rick Steves.
After eating a panino on the steps of San Lorenzo, all the while wondering what the church would be like had Michelangelo been allowed to complete the facade, I boarded the number seven bus for Fiesole. Before I boarded the bus, I used my museum pass to enter San Marco convent- not to gaze at Fra Angelico's gentle frescos or Michelozzo's unifying architecture, but to use the bathroom. Ah, the perks of a season pass to Florence's museums.
When I reached Fiesole, clouds had covered nearly all of the sun, dropping the temperature ten degrees. Perfect weather for another Friday afternoon hike! With five others from my villa, as well as our history of science professor, his wife, our villa director, and her aging golden retriever, we set out for the two hour hike to Settignano. But like most hikes in Italy, you can't depend upon reliable trail markings and maps....
As the trail wound up steep paths cluttered with pietro serena rocks (a type of limestone), we passed ancient Etruscan homes and burial mounds, Renaissance quarries that produced Florence's finest churches and villas (including my residence, the Villa Corsi-Salviati), and the field where Leonardo da Vinci conducted the first manned flight experiments. The field was also the site of the first crash landing. It's amazing what a difference a 15 minute bus ride can make. Away from the souvenir hawkers, tourist groups, and claustrophobic museums is a place so serene and untouched. So unknown, in fact, that we were the only ones on the trail.
As I mentioned above, Italian trails are seldom well-marked. As a result, we were diverted in a large circle- which, rather than leading us to our destination of Settignano, led a few hundred yards from where the bus had dropped us off in Fiesole. Nevertheless, the hike was beautiful. Perhaps I've never been so content on a crowded Florence city bus.
That night, following a dinner of fresh pesto, Verrancia di San Gimignano (my second favorite white wine in all of Italy) and vanilla ice cream served with a liberal helping of fresh Sicilian strawberries, I stayed in to watch "The Blind Side." I can honestly say that other than the day of the Packers playoff game, Super Bowl Sunday, and during the movie, I had forgotten about football in Italy. That right there shows how much I've enjoyed what I've been doing. It's perhaps a bit disconcerting too. Nevertheless, the movie really made me want to coach football as soon as I graduate college. So fired up to get back on the gridiron.
Saturday provided a rare opportunity to sleep in. After taking full advantage of this opportunity, I ran my obligatory 5 kilometers (my right knee is starting to feel the trauma of running down mountain roads every day) before heading to my favorite pasticerria for a freshly baked pastry breakfast. Detouring through the Sesto Market and the Spring Festival that I have previously raved about, I met up with friends from the Villa who were going to eat a local restaurant, the Sesto Pub. The restaurant, which closely resembled the interior of something one would find on State Street, served American sized pizzas that tasted as good as Italian pizzas at prices so low you'd find them in neither country.
That night, I went in to Florence to book my train tickets for after the program. However, a volcano erupted in Iceland. As a result, the train stations are swamped with stressed out travelers trying to board trains in desperation. After collecting just a few of the necessary tickets, I had to book it to the restaurant for dinner.
I Quadro Leoni (the Four Lions) is a trattoria raved about in all the travel books yet still relatively uncrowded by tourists, who would prefer not to venture into the oltrarno neighborhood and its crooked, dark, yet safe alleyways. The trattoria, in Piazza della Passera, is located at the site of a Renaissance brothel. Today, the piazza is still named for that business, and translates loosely into the square of a particular part of female anatomy. You can figure that one out.
At the restaurant, I met up with 24 friends from the Villa. We wanted one last night out in Florence together- thus we reserved half the restaurant. I ordered a plate of lasagne- served with a white sauce, a hefty dosage of pecorino and gorgonzola, mushrooms, and various other fresh vegetables. For dessert, we were served cheesecake and tiramisu. Throughout this delicious dinner, we enjoyed a 1.5 liter jug of Chianti wine. I'm going to miss the wine from the wicker baskets. As a side note- we ate dinner at the same table where Anthony Hopkins sat every night when he was in Florence filming Hannibal. The restaurant no longer serves human brain, thankfully only delicious Tuscan specialties.
For later in the evening, we had made a reservation at a trendy Jazz club overlooking the Arno. While we waited for our table, we were served complementary glasses of champagne. Ah, the glamour of Italian nightlife. However, instead of being given a table, we were dumped in some side bar where apparently they threw all the college students. Mildly upset but still gloating about the free glass of bubbly, we departed the premises. On our walk back to the train station, we passed over Ponte Vecchio, under the Vassarian cooridor, through the court yard, and in to the Piazza della Signoria, where a guitar player was entertaining an audience with Beatles hits. Sitting under the Loggia della Signoria, beneath some of the finest sculpture in the western world, listening to the Beatles, under the stars, next to the spot where Savanorola was burnt at the stake and hung, besides one of the finest Italian palaces. For a few brief minutes, the world reached equilibrium. Stuffed to the brim with lasagna and cheesecake, ears filled with Let it Be, the world was perfect.
But the world is not a perfect place. Alas, back to finals week. But in the midst of an intense day of studying came a two hour break, in the form of a soccer game. The Italian middle schoolers that I have been teaching english to for the semester came to the villa (in massive numbers- 20 or 30 of them!) for a farewell match. Because we were afraid we would be slaughtered by the far superior Italians, we divided teams between Americans and Italians, and played 7 on 7 at the villa soccer courts. The two hour match began with the playing of both nation's national anthems- giving this pickup game between college students and young adolescents the feel of a world cup match, if just for a few seconds. Throughout a game filled with a perfect blend of Italian and English from all players, missed headers, botched shots, skinned knees, and a clear difference in skill between the two nationalities came plenty of smiles and high fives. When the whistle blew, I nearly collapsed from exhaustion. But what an afternoon.
Not to brag- but I happened to lead all scorers with 3 goals, that's right, a hat trick. AFC Fiorentina, struggling in the middle of the pack in Serie A, may just be calling on me before I head to Switzerland on Friday....
Awesome stuff.
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