Breakfast and the news on-line.
A shave and a shower and I was on my way.
By the way I have become quite proficient at taking a shower.
Yes, I know that sounds strange. But….
I can now shower using only one hand, while the other remains, on guard, firmly attached to the “hot-cold” joystick. As the pressure fluctuates my left hand can immediately compensate. It is rather like using the joystick controls when flying a helicopter. With this new skill I have been able to avoid scald marks, freezer burn and sometimes yelps of pain; when, as I have mentioned, someone flushes their toilet in Pisa.
On the way to the gym I needed to have some letters weighed and then I had to get a color-cartridge and flash drive at the computer store. I spend a few minutes with Babel Fish reviewing the key new words that would be necessary for the computer store. I did fine at the computer store. I even managed, in Italian, when the postal guy gave me the wrong amount of stamps. We won’t discuss the periodically pathetic pronunciation, or the profound lack of tense and word gender skills or my reliance on extreme truncation. But I managed!
However, that pride was taken away at the gym. When I arrived I was greeted by the girl at the desk and managed the cursory, “Come va.” and the recent “Fa caldo oggi. Molto caldo.” Then a few brief greetings to some of the staff. However, when I got onto the workout floor all changed.
Very few women work out on the weight floors. They mostly take the many aerobic classes offered. So the weight floors are a testosterone minefield of strutting cliques. Fortunately, I have managed, in a few cases, to break through the pecking order. I feel comfortable. Some are even friendly and manage more than a “Buongiorno” grunt. Ilario is one of the friendlier and he tries his best to expand my language skills. Usually he speaks slower for me but today he started a four-day holiday from school and work and he was excited (this weekend is the holiday for some important Florentine saint). I understood the gist of the conversation but I was reduced to “Non capisco,” “Non capisco,” “Non capisco.” I sounded like a skipping LP.
Despite the heat I had a good workout. I was out the door and on the way to the market. At the Stanza Supermercati, I got the same cashier whose area was graced by my broken container of “insalata di mare con olio.” All you need to know is that there was lots of “olio” (oil). It was a mess. The line was long. He was very nice and didn’t even make the sign of the cross as I got in his line.
As I re-read that last sentence it sounds like he usually makes the sign of the cross when I get into his line. That is not what I meant. He doesn’t. But after the previous experience with me I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.
On the way home I ate an entire baguette.
I ate dinner and put a load of wash in the Ariston and putzed around on the computer.
Unfortunately there wasn’t anything sweet in the apartment. I decided to go out to fulfill that need.
It was still hot. What better than a “grande Granita di cioccolato.” I think I pronounced chocolate as “cioccolata” not “cioccolato.” However, I still got a large glass filled with semi-sweet heaven. As I was leaving two Americans said, “Look at that” so I clued them in on what it was. And the other delights of the shop. Oh, yes. I forgot to tell you that this gelateria sells chocolate-pepperincino gelato. It isn’t semi-sweet and theirs is fiery hot, but it is good. Not as good as Vernazza though.
I took a walk to the colonnade of the Ufizzi and listened to my favorite violinist while I slurped the chocolate.
Back home to blog, then out again.
The Filarmonica Comunale Fresole was playing in front of the Palazzo Vecchio. It was after the tour-groups and before the younger-set come out, after dinner, so there were only a few hundred people milling around and sitting on the edges of the Loggia. No seats were set up. The orchestra played everything from Can-Can to Puccini. It was a perfect balmy night for this. The orchestra knew what to play to get the audience involved. A fun night. They played until 11:00 PM and afterwards the American who always plays flute, between the Ufizzi and the Loggia, began his session. I walked from the Signoria through the deserted side of the Ufizzi (behind the flutist) and made my way to the Arno. I watched the lights dancing on the surface of the water and listened to the music for an hour then made my way to the apartment. Just an ordinary day in Florence. Marvelous!
I shouldn’t have that much chocolate that late. I didn’t get to sleep until 3:00 AM.
A blog or two ago I mentioned that the graffiti in the train stations here is different than that of Florence. So tonight you get graffiti!
The train-station graffiti is like that of New York City. And there is indeed some of that in Florence. The first of the pictures is the specific kind that I am talking about; stylized colorful lettering. However, the vast majority of graffiti in the Centro Storico is different, as illustrated in the remaining pictures. All this is not to let you believe that I condone graffiti. I certainly do not. It is “Male” (bad) wherever it is or whatever it looks like but it is an interesting side of Florence that I thought you might enjoy.
Train station graffiti (i.e., NYC graffiti)
Centro Storico graffiti
"MALE"
"He Haw, He How"
