Keepin' It Renaissance

<----- Sheeeeeeeeeit!

I’ve been in Florence for over two weeks and I’ve officially become a regular at Corona’s Café (gelato) and Yellow Bar (pizza). When I’m there with my waitresses, I’m family. But not the mafia kind and, obviously, neither as good nor as greasy as Olive Garden.

Florence is an incredible city. Every night there is something different going on in the streets: from a brass orchestra to an opera concert, from ballet to American Indians drumming. Unlike Rome, Florence is pretty tame and, on non-World Cup nights, quiet: Florentines aren’t lushes (in sharp contrast to the American I watched vomit all over the Baptistery), and, after the music stops around midnight, go to bed. This, of course, signaling the tourists’ takeover of all the piazzas (see previous example).

Apart from the unplanned TD 2013 reunion at the Ponte Vecchio, I’ve been in and out of museums, up and down bell towers, and to and from churches searching for pieces by Andrea del Sarto and Lippo Lippi. I’ve been strolling through the Tuscan hillsides and gardens, lounging in Robert Browning’s study/reading on his sofa (baller!), and staying up late reading the adventures of George Smiley.

The majority of my time, however, has been devoted rather unashamedly to people watching. And I was granted that rarest of people watching pleasures: I witnessed my object (quarry? prey? too creepy?) evolve.

Down the street are some Italian grandparents who have been trying to teach their grandson to ride his bike and, just yesterday, he took off down the street without them walking alongside and pushing him. It was really cute, but also really creepy because I have photos of him in various stages of his biking career.

Talk with y'all soon!