Cindy is the smartest trip planner in the world. She knew that after a full week of touring, tasting, biking, and shopping, we would need a down day. My body would have thanked her if I had had enough sense to actually hang out at the villa and rest. But, no. I figured I could rest in Nashville and this is why NSAIDs were invented.
Thursday was the free day. Give six women a full day in Florence with nothing planned and anything can happen. We split into two groups, then those groups splintered further. Sally and I went in search of the Leonardo da Vinci Museum. There is nothing like a museum to highlight how much you don’t know like that da Vinci and Michelangelo were contemporaries. Da Vinci was about twenty years older and they hated each other. Who knew?
Da Vinci, though known for his beautiful art, was an engineer and a dreamer at heart. Like all artists, he had to have a wealthy patron. One of his patrons was a Borgia who wielded a reign of terror and conquered his way through Italy. Da Vinci designed any number of lethal weapons that changed warfare forever. When Borgia assassinated one of his best friends, Leonardo decided maybe he should get a different patron. So, Leonardo Da Vinci was basically the Tony Stark of the Fifteenth Century.
It was raining, but even in the rain, Florence is beautiful. We stumbled into a new, different plaza in front of the Duomo. Across from it was the Baptistry, an octagonal building with gilded bronze doors. I had been told that this was a “must-see” and am so glad I did. The Duomo was both glorious and imposing. The designer did not go for a “less is more” aesthetic.
Sally and I shopped and walked until about three when we were finally wet and tired enough to head back to the villa. Just before we got there, we ducked into a tiny cafe. Sally had Ribollita and I had Pappa al Pomodoro, both traditional Tuscan soups made with stale bread. Sally’s was vegetable and mine was tomato. That was a favorite dish and one I hope to recreate at home. Beth passed the cafe in the pouring rain. We banged on the window and she came in to join us. While we were eating, four young people came in, ordered coffee, and began to play cards. They were there hours later.
After Cindy, Dana, Judy, and Beth had a leisurely lunch, they split up. Beth found the Mercator Centrale Firenze, where she drank sangria and wandered amongst the hundreds of vendors. She came home with flowers and one of her favorite adventures of the trip. Judy, who is the most talented and experienced shopper I have ever met, did damage at any number of boutiques. I am living vicariously through her. Cindy and Dana had their hair done. It was very Audrey Hepburn, only Florence not Rome and there was no Gregory Peck involved. They, however, were beautiful.
By the time Sally, Beth and I got home the others had begun to arrive as well. We compared purchases, shared our day, and drank wine. Beth found charming etchings at a shop near our villa, so I ran back out to buy some as well. They are one of my favorite purchases and the perfect souvenir of Tuscany. Cindy brought home “the biggest T-bone in the universe.” We cooked the pasta we had helped make the night before and had that with salads and that fabulous steak. It was another perfect day.
November 1st is All Saints Day and they take that very seriously in Florence. As we were walking to the Accademia Gallery to see Michelangelo’s David, the church bells began to ring. It was deafening and glorious. When we walked by the Duomo, we could see the Cardinal and several priests processing out. That was a special moment and a reminder of how important the day is. They don’t wait until the next Sunday to celebrate. They make it a national holiday.
We again went different ways agreeing to reconvene at 4 pm for our tour of the Uffizi. At three, Sally, Beth and I saw some attractive men walking along with a camera crew. Beth asked a man who they were. He explained it was a Spanish actor who had appeared on the Italian Big Brother. Then he introduced us to his family, a cousin, the cousin’s wife, and their toddler. It happened that the cousin was a designer who had been to Nashville to show his line to Nordstrom. The wife, Katherine, was from Houston. Soon we were walking with our new friends to their shop, which happened to be on our way. We barely had time to stop in and look around. Everything was beautiful. When a designer goes and pulls a coat in your exact size and tells you that this is the coat you need to buy because something, something, something (he was charming and I was eating it up.) Then he showed Beth a coat. Her’s was navy. I prefer navy. He said absolutely not. I needed to wear black. Beth and I have new coats. The experience was worth the cost of the coats, but the coats are fabulous too.
We hurried to meet our friends only to hit a wall of people. Note to self and any other travelers. Do not plan to visit Italian museums of any kind on a national holiday. The museums are free and everyone and their Aunt Francesca take advantage of that fact. Picture Broadway when the Preds were in the Playoffs during CMA Week and a concert at Nissan Stadium. The Uffizi was that kind of crowded and everyone wanted to go through one door. ONE DOOR. We seriously considered bailing, but it is just wrong to go to Florence and not visit The Uffizi.
I am pretty sure there is no Fire Marshall in Florence. I have never seen so many people in one line. We, with our tour group, were finally nearing the front when a group of women came pushing through the crowd. Our tour guide quietly explained to us that they were in the wrong place but were Italian and would not be reasoned with. It was almost worth the wait to see the man keeping the line send them packing. I later saw them in one of the galleries so they did get in, just not in front of us.
Our tour guide was extremely knowledgeable and hilarious. She did a great job navigating the crowds and showing us the highlights of the museum. As a rule, I don’t mind crowds, but I was even ready to call it a day when our tour ended. We will simply have to return to Florence and to the Uffizi on a less crowded, more opportune day. Maybe in January during an ice storm.
I like to eat. I like to eat Italian food. So it surprised even me when I was too tired to eat last night. We set out the leftovers from our meals and everyone grazed. We sat on the terrace, drank chianti, and waved at the people who stared at us. By 9 pm, I called it a night. I finished packing and fell into bed. You know it has been a good trip when you are as tired when you wake up as you were when you went to sleep. I will take that kind of tired any time.