DAY 43: Bloody Head

“You can get paid to say NO FOTO?” We’ve been placing bets to see when “The Harv” finally gets kicked out for using his camcorder in museums and churches… “Priscilla” was ready to have him arrested after she told him 3 times “No Foto!” He rebelled against the war in 1972 and 40 years later he’s rebelling against Catholic security guards… and with such a “Oh I’m sorry, I had no idea… I’ve only lived here and visit every year…” bogus innocence. I love it. On our way to the Bargello Museum, he pointed out statues that nonchalantly stand in little nooks in buildings, watching over the bustle below… John the Fairy, Skinny Matt, Marky-Mark, Thomas the Doubter… the whole gang was there, looking like they needed a café as much as I did. I now understand where Disney got their inspiration for “The Little Mermaid & Hercules”… sadly, my mind relates these statues to cartoons, where as a far more educated (or Italian) person would relate the cartoons to the statues. “Mommy, Ariel’s daddy looks like St. John the Baptist!”

At the Gello of the Barg, we compared “Due David” (2 David’s, which I wrote a paper on 5 years ago, so I was STOKED!)…. The little adolescent twerp that beheaded Goliath the giant stands with sword in hand, over the massive head, proud and relieved… the story sounds so glorious and brazen- a young man defeats the undefeatable. But you know that he was crapping his pants because he was barely strong enough to lift his sword… it’s like being charged by an elephant and all you have is a toothpick to defend yourself. Of course the “God I hope this works” face was thrown out the window and Donatello builds a mesmerizing bronze sculpture of a young nude (1^st bronze nude of the time), wearing a mischievous, coy smirk under a hat that creates a mysterious shadow. He erotically stands with one foot on Goliath’s decapitated head, straining every muscle to lift his sword victoriously. I’m surprised “Don” didn’t throw a few beads of sweat on his temple… Upstairs to Verrochio’s giant killer, we observed sims and diffs.  SIDENOTE: I’m afraid to the majority of the population, looking at 2 statues of a couple kids and a head would be lackluster… but again, I won the blue ribbon in the Nerds-R-Us Parade and I could contemplate every muscle, toe and strand of hair for hours. “V’s” David was created AFTER “Don’s,” so he got to sit back and watch the condemnation and praise before he broke out the bronze. He formed a smaller, younger looking boy, who wore “silk armor”- it was metal, but clung to his pecks like silk- he carried a smaller sword and stood over G’s head with pride, but not arrogance. I wonder what kind of grade I got on that paper?

Exercise never makes me hungry. But climbing stairs and exercising my brain leaves me famished… there is a great little wine bar on the street right by our hotel (which we unfortunately discovered 2 days before our departure) that has been around FOREVER called “DueFratellini”- 2 Brothers- they make sandos that are Ta’Die… super simple… one meat, one cheese, some veggies maybe… I rocked a turkey, eggplant, roasted red pepper and zucchini and a glass of vino, all for 4 Euros- SO scrumptious. Across the street was a vintage store called “Angelo” that was calling my name… we played dress up for awhile and the storeowner spoke incredible English, so I asked her where she was from.

Her: “The States… Montana.”

Me: “No F’ing way! Where?”

Her: “Missoula…”

Me: “We are from Bozeman!”

Her: “No Way!”

Me: “Yeah Way!”

Her: “NO WAY!”

Me: “YEAH WAY!”

And so on and so forth. Really isn’t that unreasonable. If we were from Fargo and met a fellow Fargonian in Pakistan, that would be a trip… but we’re not Fargonians. Nor are we anywhere near Pakistan. If I could live in Florence, I would in a heartbeat… we’ve been surrounded by NYU snots that yell into their cell phones and have no idea who Michelangelo, Donatello or Leonardo are, so it was refreshing to chat with a fellow native.

Back on the “school bus” we trekked to Santa Maria Novella, another church… of course amazing, but will only be remembered by the tacky light boxes featuring plastic Mary’s holding baby Jesus who is stringing pearls around her neck surrounded by Christmas decorations… I shit you not, some beautiful frescos and architecture, but these neon garbage cubes belong in a Baptist trailer park café in Alabama. Kate and I spotted an Irish pub across the courtyard outside and “reviewed our notes” over a couple brewskies, later ending up in the ghetto of Florence on our way to the Ponte Vecchio… an hour later we admired jewels and checked out more vintage. I would have been an outcast in the 50’s… everything is so tiny! If I walked into a tailor, they would yell to the seamstress in the back to ready the noose… Kate had to check out our fav. Gelato shop on the corner, and because I’ve gone sans dairy, I enjoyed a strawberry sherbet… nearly as satisfying. Dinner consisted of crackers, peanut butter and grapes again… really exciting.

2 things: I don’t know how those skinny little pigeon feet hold up such weight… AND I LOVE clean clothes… I forgot how much I love to do laundry (not sure I ever LOVED it, but I do now)… Last day in Firenze tomorrow L I love it here, despite the rain… I may consider future employment in the surrounding area… ciao ciao!