Sydney and I enjoyed a lively, very full week with our friends Savannah and Tracy, who came all the way from MS to visit us. We toured Florence, Pisa, Venice, and the village of Fiesole together. We walked miles on end, ducked in a few museums, took in some breathtaking sights, and had some added adventures due to lack of planning and Italian public transportation (a lethal combination). All in all, it was a stellar week.
This past week was "spring break" although I feel guilty using that phrase because this entire semester is rather like a spring break. Sydney, of course, (being Sydney) had grand schemes. Jetting over to Spain was on the agenda. However, on Monday we sat down, took an honest look at our bank accounts, and decided that having money to make it home was multo importante. Ergo, we settled for a spring break in Florence, which, of course, isn't really settling at all. We took it slowly. We explored our surroundings. We flung open our doors to enjoy the blooms on our tree. We sat in the sunlight. We did nothing monumental. It was delightful.
On Monday we attempted to make homemade pasta and watched Pride and Prejudice with our pal Shannon.
On Tuesday we visited the church of Santa Maria Novella to see the famous painting Holy Trinity by Masaccio. Then we grabbed some gelato at the best gelateria in town, Grom.
On Wednesday I headed to the English cemetery. It was the perfect afternoon. I snapped some pictures, sat on a rock to draw daffodils, and pulled out my handy dandy nook (thanks Jamie) to read Vasari's Lives of the Artists.
On Thursday we found ourselves watching a parade of Medievals entering the oldest Renaissance piazza in Florence, celebrating traditional Florentine New Year. For a moment, it was possible to ignore the carnival in the piazza, block the city buses out of view, and be transported to the 15th century. In the midst of Brunelleschi's graceful archways and della Robbia's ceramic infants, the feather-clad, tights-wearing rainbow of Florence converged. It was magical.
On Friday I found an empty bench in our piazza. I watched the splashing fountain and the flock of pigeons and the boys practicing their juggling tricks. I attempted to draw the man dozing on the park bench and the highschoolers huddled near the fountain and the girl who stood pensively waiting under the archway. There are two problems with drawing from people-watching: they will not keep still (not even the sleeping ones), and they soon discover that someone is staring at them (except the sleeping ones). That evening we celebrated Sydney's 21st birthday by eating dinner at our favorite trattoria. I fall asleep dreaming of their tiramisu.
On Saturday we wandered. We headed down past the Arno River and followed an enchanting staircase. It took us through a narrow lane with stone walls concealing city views and olive groves like this one.
We came upon the most perfect benches in a little nook of velvety green grass. They overlook a valley of small crops, olive trees, and tennis courts. The red dome of Florence's cathedral gilmmers in the background. I sketched a quick scene and lamented the death of my camera battery as the sun set behind the verdant hills.
We continued our wandering into the twilight and found a fairy wood. It lies outside the walls of a church/monastery and is filled with Tuscan trees. (Side note: "Tuscan trees" can be found in the picture from the graveyard). I am perfectly sure that this wood is where the monks wander in the early hours of the morning. Because you know that they wander. (By this point it was dark, and, unfortunately, we have no photographic evidence of this part of our journey). From the woods, we walked up to the terrace of San Miniato, the church set high on a hill overlooking the city. With our backs to the church, we faced the glow of the moon and the lights of the city which gleamed brightly in the deep dusk. Perched on an obliging marble pillar, we sat watching the night clouds and reveling in the beauty of it all.
We awoke Sunday morning to the confusion of Italian daylight savings time. My cell phone was still on Mississippi time. Pre-daylight savings time. Try opening your sleepy eyes and attempting to do the math. It doesn't work out so well for girls like me (I did finally change my phone to Italian time, for the record). Needless to say, we were a little late for church. In the afternoon, we took a birthday picnic in the Boboli Gardens.
A white sheet spread among the clovers and wildflowers was the perfect location for napping in the sunshine and watching children play hide-and-seek amongst the hedges and sculptures of the old Medici grounds. And, of course, no picnic (or spring break) is complete without bare feet.
This past week was "spring break" although I feel guilty using that phrase because this entire semester is rather like a spring break. Sydney, of course, (being Sydney) had grand schemes. Jetting over to Spain was on the agenda. However, on Monday we sat down, took an honest look at our bank accounts, and decided that having money to make it home was multo importante. Ergo, we settled for a spring break in Florence, which, of course, isn't really settling at all. We took it slowly. We explored our surroundings. We flung open our doors to enjoy the blooms on our tree. We sat in the sunlight. We did nothing monumental. It was delightful.
On Monday we attempted to make homemade pasta and watched Pride and Prejudice with our pal Shannon.
On Tuesday we visited the church of Santa Maria Novella to see the famous painting Holy Trinity by Masaccio. Then we grabbed some gelato at the best gelateria in town, Grom.
On Wednesday I headed to the English cemetery. It was the perfect afternoon. I snapped some pictures, sat on a rock to draw daffodils, and pulled out my handy dandy nook (thanks Jamie) to read Vasari's Lives of the Artists.
On Thursday we found ourselves watching a parade of Medievals entering the oldest Renaissance piazza in Florence, celebrating traditional Florentine New Year. For a moment, it was possible to ignore the carnival in the piazza, block the city buses out of view, and be transported to the 15th century. In the midst of Brunelleschi's graceful archways and della Robbia's ceramic infants, the feather-clad, tights-wearing rainbow of Florence converged. It was magical.
On Friday I found an empty bench in our piazza. I watched the splashing fountain and the flock of pigeons and the boys practicing their juggling tricks. I attempted to draw the man dozing on the park bench and the highschoolers huddled near the fountain and the girl who stood pensively waiting under the archway. There are two problems with drawing from people-watching: they will not keep still (not even the sleeping ones), and they soon discover that someone is staring at them (except the sleeping ones). That evening we celebrated Sydney's 21st birthday by eating dinner at our favorite trattoria. I fall asleep dreaming of their tiramisu.
On Saturday we wandered. We headed down past the Arno River and followed an enchanting staircase. It took us through a narrow lane with stone walls concealing city views and olive groves like this one.
We came upon the most perfect benches in a little nook of velvety green grass. They overlook a valley of small crops, olive trees, and tennis courts. The red dome of Florence's cathedral gilmmers in the background. I sketched a quick scene and lamented the death of my camera battery as the sun set behind the verdant hills.
We continued our wandering into the twilight and found a fairy wood. It lies outside the walls of a church/monastery and is filled with Tuscan trees. (Side note: "Tuscan trees" can be found in the picture from the graveyard). I am perfectly sure that this wood is where the monks wander in the early hours of the morning. Because you know that they wander. (By this point it was dark, and, unfortunately, we have no photographic evidence of this part of our journey). From the woods, we walked up to the terrace of San Miniato, the church set high on a hill overlooking the city. With our backs to the church, we faced the glow of the moon and the lights of the city which gleamed brightly in the deep dusk. Perched on an obliging marble pillar, we sat watching the night clouds and reveling in the beauty of it all.
We awoke Sunday morning to the confusion of Italian daylight savings time. My cell phone was still on Mississippi time. Pre-daylight savings time. Try opening your sleepy eyes and attempting to do the math. It doesn't work out so well for girls like me (I did finally change my phone to Italian time, for the record). Needless to say, we were a little late for church. In the afternoon, we took a birthday picnic in the Boboli Gardens.
A white sheet spread among the clovers and wildflowers was the perfect location for napping in the sunshine and watching children play hide-and-seek amongst the hedges and sculptures of the old Medici grounds. And, of course, no picnic (or spring break) is complete without bare feet.
