I am so tired of INSOMNIA. The past three nights have been a twisting and turning and listening to the revelers outside singing MAMA MIA over and over again. I haven't been alone with this condition. Both Jake and Sally were up all night last night also. I don't know what the hell it is. At first I thought it was the expresso, but I only had one cup yesterday and I was still up all night. I'd like to say it was just jet lag, but that seems like a long time ago. Maybe it's just the reality of being in a different place with lots of new sounds and sights and stuff. Our little apartmento was built in the fourteenth century and the windows are more like wooden doors. I imagine the alley outside my window has had quite a few drunken lovers laughing and carrying on. I imagined myself throwing a bucket of water on them and swearing in Italian, "shut uppa your moutha", but my twenty first sensibility held me back.
Florence on a Saturday night is definitely a "happening" place.
After the horrible insomniacal night I had, I found myself waking, yes, those first waking moments occured at 11:30. Now, my first waking moments are not the moments that I can think clearly or act quickly, so it wasn't until 12:30 that I actually figured out that the Accademie Museum, the house of DAVID, the one thing I wanted to see before I left Florence, closed at 2 PM AND it was closed on Mondays, which was tomorrow AND our last day in Florence.
The thought of leaving Florence and not visiting the Accademie Museum and seeing David was just not acceptable. I rallied Jake and John to join me and we tried fruitlessly to get Sally to join us. We started off around 1:15 and as we wandered through the tiny little stone streets of Florence, looking for Piazza San Marco, where the museum looked like it was supposed to be according to our silly damn tourist map that had oversized pictures and distances that seemed to vary with each new turn. At about 1:40 I finally asked a woman where the Piazza San Marco was. She proceeded to give me a very long description in Italian of how to take the bus to San Marco. I wanted to tell her that I would prefer to run or fly through the streets to get to the museum on time.
Well, at last, at 1:51 we were in the Piazza San Marco. There we saw the three large buildings that unfortunately all looked the same and were clearly CLOSED. I was so devastated. I wanted to get mad, but there was no one to blame but myself, (although the noisy drunk revelers from the night before would have been nice in that moment to get my hands on). No, we had tried and lost. David was not to be seen. I could only have the shallow memory that I saw the copy outside in the Piazza dell Signoria.
So, forlorn to the point of tears (yes, it's true) I followed my friends out of the Piazza in search of food. As we wandered, I noticed a modest doorway on the back of the Accademi Museum. As I got closer I discovered it was the entrance to the museum and it was OPEN. I went in thinking that I had less than half an hour to see all the art in this famous museum. As we entered, I asked the woman what time the museum closed. She said it closed around 5:50. I WAS WRONG! Hallelujah. I grabbed the woman and hugged her (yes, it's true) and she was clearly delighted that she had given me so much joy with such a simple answer.
Sooo. We wandered around the museum and it was so amazing. I fell in love with David (especially his ass). He was huge and so detailed. The veins on his hands and feet were so real. He was so at ease and peaceful. I felt so fortunate to see this work of art in person and it was just amazing to think that he was carved out of a gigantic piece of marble. I'm sorry for all the hyperbole, but I don't know how to say it more poetically. I guess you just had to be there... and thanks to poor reckoning on my part.. I was.
Now there was lots more beautiful art and the renaissance painters really knew how to render their bible stories beautifully. It made me wonder what our dramatic stories are and how we will tell them to the world in a future century. I actually said to John at one point in the journey, I think I love this art more than I love food. He was shocked.
My silly lapse into renaissance adoration was quickly tempered with another amazing work of art, LAMBREDOTTO. This delicious, quiet morsel of salty, juicy wonderfulness is made with the boiled fourth stomach of a cow. The bread roll is dipped in its juices and it's all topped with a little salsa verde. It was delicious and I think the woman who served me admired the courage of this American tourist to try it. John and I shared the sandwich and a porchetta (which is roast pork on a panini roll). After the first bite, I didn't want to share any more, but the inner peace I had achieved looking at David allowed me to be more magnanimous than usual.
I ended the day with a ladies night with Sal. We did a little shopping, had dinner together and wandered home satisfied with gelato and nutella covered waffles. A most fortunate day I must insist.
Jake took a lovely photo of this great work of art and I have shared it with the world.
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