Florence part 1

My first welcome to this lovely city happened at the Frankfurt Airport. The Lufthansa computer was spitting out the wrong type of boarding pass and the agent was having difficulty. I turned to the people behind me in line, smiled and said "Sorry -- the computer doesn't like me" to which a handsome (very) man replied, with the most charming Italian accent and lilt: "And how could anything or anyone not love such a beautiful woman?"...and I knew all would be well.

The first thing I did once I got off the airport bus in Florence was get utterly lost. This had been recommended by a woman I met while connecting in Washington DC, and Florence is a city that begs to get lost in. Around every corner is either some amazing and ancient art, some delicious food, some fascinating piece of history, or some wonderful Italian man. The women and children are equally charming, and the teenagers are totally craZy.

My room at the convent is perfect and the sisters were delighted at the California Poppy seeds I gave them (there is a lovely garden here -- or will be soon -- plants are just beginning to show blossoms.)

Last evening, I meandered and discovered a wonderful local deli that makes out of this world panini of all sorts, plus salads and "slow food" (locally grown/made) deli items -- this will be my primary 'restaurant'.

This morning the birdsong woke me up and I lost myself meandering down quiet streets, had my first delicious and STRONG cafe (with a fresh lemon/apple/berry pastry -- to die for) and started taking photos, including one of a lovely courtyard. Suddenly, the police arrived, lights flashing -- they jumped out, demanded my passport, advised photos were not allowed, and pointed up -- oops, the Union Jack was flying and the sign above the courtyard entrance read: British Consulate. I put my Blackberry in my purse and did NOT tell them my mother was born in Tralee. They gave me back my passport and told me not to photo "government properties."

Shop keepers and street vendors were setting up, and I noticed Niccolo (see pics) had a small poster of Bob Dylan next to his cash drawer. I pointed to it and recited "John's in the basement, mixing up the medicine -- I'm on the pavement thinking bout the government..." He smiled in delight and told me to select 10 postcards from his stall at half price--waaay cool.

I had been to an English mass in the Duomo on Saturday (stumbled into it getting lost trying to find an English AA meeting), but today, Palm Sunday, I wanted to hear the Passion in Italian. Church bells (real ones) ring all over the city throughout the day before each Mass -- truly a heavenly sound. The sister who welcomed me at the Convent was one of the readers! Talk about divine synchronicity. The mass was very beautiful in Italian, and like many others in Florence, I carried my olive branches with me all day.

Wandering around the neighborhood of Santo Spirito Church, I stumbled on a small market (see pics) and enjoyed a vegetable torte, some local cheese, and the sweetest blood orange I have ever tasted.

Many stores/shops off the tourist path are closed on Sunday (including my deli) -- a day of rest -- what a concept. But I did find a chess set shop and a cafe named Hemingway that serves very trendy gelato and dreamy chocolate everything.

I explored the Pitti Palace which houses several museums and is the entrance to the Boboli gardens. Nearly an overload of 16th/17th century art and incredibly sumptuous palatial rooms. The gardens are not yet in bloom, but the views of the city and the statuary made it very worthwhile.

Finally, back to Casa Santo Nome di Gesu, a bit sore from all the walking I did today -- think I'll make an appointment at a spa I passed on the way home.

Art, chocolate, delicious food, delightful people -- La Dolce Vita!
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