For some strange reason, last night and early this morning, the streets of Central Florence were quiet. I swear I haven't slept this well in months - even with ear plugs, which eventually fall out and end up stuck to my face anyway. I woke up at 4AM, 6AM, even 8AM ... nothing. No drunks. No sirens. No hand carts trundling through San Lorenzo. Nothing. Niente. Each time I'd just mumble, "Mmmmm" and roll back over. Silence. It was, truly, a luxury.
I heard distant churchbells at 06:30, but if Duomo's rang at 07:00, which normally serve as my alarm clock, I didn't hear them. Finally at about 10AM I started to hear street noise but was still unaware of where I was, what day of the week it was, and who, by chance, could have gotten into my apartment and given me this hair do - I looked like I had a bad perm and spent the night in a blow dryer. Fabulous. Where's the coffee, baby?
While I sliced up a last apple, emptied a Mueller yogurt container into a bowl with some Nutella and peanut butter, I mentally tried to assemble a strategy for my day. (Obviously I had not wasted brain cells on a solid breakfast plan, so this should be fun.) Pasqua (Easter) weekend is upon us, and everything, including the gym (!), will be closed for the next 2 days. While listening for the gurgling of the Moka pot, I hung my still fuzzy head, complete with rat's nest, out the window looking at a clear blue sky above and a blue Polizia van below. There were 6 gentlemen kitted-out in tactical vests outside my door 5 stories down. Boh?!
80% sure they weren't looking for me, as I distinctly remember coming straight home after last night's beer-pairing dinner, I went about my business, dumping the last of the milk into my frother; crap - barely enough to froth. Add milk to the list. All is still quiet, no riots, no protests, no parades, no tourist hordes, no nothing. I shuffle to the computer to get a morning dose of WTF online. The horoscopes this year I find totally unamusing (I gave up on the "news" a long time ago) so I've turned to wine, food & travel blogs, including a recent emergence (identity unknown) who artfully jams together the writings of Ruth Reichl and personality of Anthony Bourdain into a raw, irreverent spewing of 140 characters or less. Hilarious. You have to be familiar with the styles of both to appreciate the genius that is Ruth Bourdain.
NOTE 1: If you are drinking cappuccino while reading Ruth Bourdain, you may want to switch to skim milk, as it's probably easier on the sinuses when it comes snorting out your nose after reading her/him; although it won't froth as nicely as the Omega 3 stuff I'm using here.
Only after I get my morning fix of Ruth, Jen, a little Italian language review, and scroll some other blogs (favorites below), I affix something smartass to my own facebook page, try to once again explain my affinity for Ruth Bourdain to people, wash my face, tie back my scary do, and schlump off to the central market in yoga pants to stock up for Pasqua-geddon (or, "Oh my God I may not be able to buy food for the next 2 days!")
NOTE 2: Yes, I'm back on facebook. This is my 2nd week, with only minor regrets, but missed some of my friends. I continue to do a friend cull weekly, so if you send me dumb shit? You're gone. No more warnings. That's how I roll. End parenthesis.
Out in the street, the Polizia were gone, and the hordes have infiltrated once again. Damn. Ruth's latest is in my head as I glide through the maket thinking, how appropriate:
I continued through the market, seeking out favorite produce, bread, cheese vendors, some new ones, ordered prosciutto, olives, veges, Sicilian blood oranges, and even gave in to some fresh flowers - Fresia Matta (crazy Fresia - right up my alley) from a sweet older woman. I noticed my tendency in markets to beeline mostly to stands manned (womanned) by older Italian people (many are run by foreigners). Maybe it's discriminatory, but I especially enjoy the exchanges with them and their older customers, one of them proudly telling me, after she proceeded to bust the vendor's balls a little, that she was 80 years old. God bless her. Every transaction ended with, "Grazie. Buona Pasqua!" and a genuine, smiling, "Grazie tanto, Buona Pasqua a te!"
NOTE 3: No Calico cats - only 2 Golden Retrievers, a Dachshund, and some grey, shaggy dog. Yes, you can take your dogs everywhere here, even restaurants - they are very well-behaved.
NOTE 4: I really will miss being able to pet a dog at the market while digging in my pockets for change: 60 cents for tomatoes here, 90 cents for bread there. We won't, however, talk about how much I spent on cheese today. Again.
Other than the Scoppio del Carro at the cathedral tomorrow, an historical celebration (complete with explosions) my lovely landlady ordered me not to miss, am hoping for a nice, quiet, couple of days. Oh, and I need to get busy trying to find those little chocolate Uove di Pasqua (Easter eggs) she brought me. I've had to hide them ... from myself ...
I wish all my friends and family a Buona Pasqua - Happy Easter - however you spend it, whether you celebrate or not, wherever you are in the world. For those of you not able to be with your families, those still doing God's work in Afghanistan and Iraq, my thoughts remain with all of you - I wish you peace and a safe return home.
I heard distant churchbells at 06:30, but if Duomo's rang at 07:00, which normally serve as my alarm clock, I didn't hear them. Finally at about 10AM I started to hear street noise but was still unaware of where I was, what day of the week it was, and who, by chance, could have gotten into my apartment and given me this hair do - I looked like I had a bad perm and spent the night in a blow dryer. Fabulous. Where's the coffee, baby?
While I sliced up a last apple, emptied a Mueller yogurt container into a bowl with some Nutella and peanut butter, I mentally tried to assemble a strategy for my day. (Obviously I had not wasted brain cells on a solid breakfast plan, so this should be fun.) Pasqua (Easter) weekend is upon us, and everything, including the gym (!), will be closed for the next 2 days. While listening for the gurgling of the Moka pot, I hung my still fuzzy head, complete with rat's nest, out the window looking at a clear blue sky above and a blue Polizia van below. There were 6 gentlemen kitted-out in tactical vests outside my door 5 stories down. Boh?!
80% sure they weren't looking for me, as I distinctly remember coming straight home after last night's beer-pairing dinner, I went about my business, dumping the last of the milk into my frother; crap - barely enough to froth. Add milk to the list. All is still quiet, no riots, no protests, no parades, no tourist hordes, no nothing. I shuffle to the computer to get a morning dose of WTF online. The horoscopes this year I find totally unamusing (I gave up on the "news" a long time ago) so I've turned to wine, food & travel blogs, including a recent emergence (identity unknown) who artfully jams together the writings of Ruth Reichl and personality of Anthony Bourdain into a raw, irreverent spewing of 140 characters or less. Hilarious. You have to be familiar with the styles of both to appreciate the genius that is Ruth Bourdain.
NOTE 1: If you are drinking cappuccino while reading Ruth Bourdain, you may want to switch to skim milk, as it's probably easier on the sinuses when it comes snorting out your nose after reading her/him; although it won't froth as nicely as the Omega 3 stuff I'm using here.
Only after I get my morning fix of Ruth, Jen, a little Italian language review, and scroll some other blogs (favorites below), I affix something smartass to my own facebook page, try to once again explain my affinity for Ruth Bourdain to people, wash my face, tie back my scary do, and schlump off to the central market in yoga pants to stock up for Pasqua-geddon (or, "Oh my God I may not be able to buy food for the next 2 days!")
NOTE 2: Yes, I'm back on facebook. This is my 2nd week, with only minor regrets, but missed some of my friends. I continue to do a friend cull weekly, so if you send me dumb shit? You're gone. No more warnings. That's how I roll. End parenthesis.
Out in the street, the Polizia were gone, and the hordes have infiltrated once again. Damn. Ruth's latest is in my head as I glide through the maket thinking, how appropriate:
"Sawdust on the floor. Stank of poontang. WTF? Oops, stepped on a Calico. Serious men cut serious meat. Seriously. Easter @ Florence (market)"
I continued through the market, seeking out favorite produce, bread, cheese vendors, some new ones, ordered prosciutto, olives, veges, Sicilian blood oranges, and even gave in to some fresh flowers - Fresia Matta (crazy Fresia - right up my alley) from a sweet older woman. I noticed my tendency in markets to beeline mostly to stands manned (womanned) by older Italian people (many are run by foreigners). Maybe it's discriminatory, but I especially enjoy the exchanges with them and their older customers, one of them proudly telling me, after she proceeded to bust the vendor's balls a little, that she was 80 years old. God bless her. Every transaction ended with, "Grazie. Buona Pasqua!" and a genuine, smiling, "Grazie tanto, Buona Pasqua a te!"
NOTE 3: No Calico cats - only 2 Golden Retrievers, a Dachshund, and some grey, shaggy dog. Yes, you can take your dogs everywhere here, even restaurants - they are very well-behaved.
NOTE 4: I really will miss being able to pet a dog at the market while digging in my pockets for change: 60 cents for tomatoes here, 90 cents for bread there. We won't, however, talk about how much I spent on cheese today. Again.
Other than the Scoppio del Carro at the cathedral tomorrow, an historical celebration (complete with explosions) my lovely landlady ordered me not to miss, am hoping for a nice, quiet, couple of days. Oh, and I need to get busy trying to find those little chocolate Uove di Pasqua (Easter eggs) she brought me. I've had to hide them ... from myself ...
I wish all my friends and family a Buona Pasqua - Happy Easter - however you spend it, whether you celebrate or not, wherever you are in the world. For those of you not able to be with your families, those still doing God's work in Afghanistan and Iraq, my thoughts remain with all of you - I wish you peace and a safe return home.
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All entries are strictly observations from my point of view. This blog is not intended as professional commentary on travel, wine, food, or any other subjects I discuss - it is for entertainment, an online journal, for my friends, family, and anyone interested in my stories or journey in general.
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