Firenze or Florence

We've safely arrived in our wonderful flat in Florence.  It feels very 15th century.  We even have laundry although unfortunately, one of my shirts has fallen of the drying line and into a forlorn courtyard.  Hopefully, I'll get it back tomorrow.

On the train ride in, I finished reading The Enchantress of Florence by Salman Rushdie, which was strangely not as appropriate as I guess it should have been.  Still, it was nice timing.  We had dinner in tonight.  It was melon and prosciutto and pasta with pesto sauce and I had a fair bit wine, which may explain the writing, along with the Rushdie.  It was a generous meal served up for a bargain by my wonderful wife.  Now, all I have to do is wash dishes.

Anyhow, it is wonderful to be back in Florence or Firenze.  This city doesn't change drastically.  I'm one of the people who has no claim to the city but comes here anyway.  All of the wandering travelers feel like they are a bit in my way but then, it is like looking in a mirror.  Of course, I've come for the food, the art, and the views and I'm not sure why some of the others do.  There is certainly fashion here and culture.  I think traveling in Italy always feels a bit like it has been mucked up somewhat by the progression of time.  I want to go back to the Renaissance when Florence was a jewel of the world and not an antique.  I could do without the wars, the plagues and the antisemitism, though - I'm glad we're a little past some of it here.  But enough snobbery.  I think that the strangeness of how others feel and act towards this city only enhances the joy when I feel that I've found a little piece of my own imagined Italy.  When we stumble across the authentic family restaurant or know  (as much as anyone does) what a piece of art means or why it was made.  But I can share the views of the Duomo, the Arno and the San Lorenzo market (inside more than on the street).  I have no choice and every once in a while a person who sees it with the same light shows you a better angle and makes it all the better.

This is why you should not write blog posts after your wife tells you she does not like the wine and you feel obliged to get your 6 Euros worth from the bottle all by yourself.  Forgive me.  We are exceedingly well, a little sick for home, missing our Wally and friends and family, but happy and enjoying our journey.  There are moments where I understand nothing about why I've come and the things I see and moments where the reason for the sometimes uncomfortable, stretch of travel is a sparkling, translucent and beautiful thing.

We saw many beautiful things today but took no pictures.  I am sorry.