Finding Florence

I had a delivery to make this morning- a pincushion made from fabric my mother had bought here in July, to be delivered to the workers at the shop where she purchased it. I headed off after breakfast to deliver it. The path to the shop took me past Santa Croce (spectacular) through the leather market (some very nice bags) and into residential territory. Here’s Santa Croce as you approach it. You come around a corner and it looms up in front of you, lit with the lovely warm Italian light, such a contrast to the narrow dark streets. 

The architecture in the residential area was similar to the city centre with the only differences being that it’s a bit dirtier and the shops are functional (hardware, fruit) not fashion and homewares. In many cities, the tourist part is very distinct from the everyday living , but in Florence, these incredibly old buildings are still in use every day. 

Reaching the shop, I duly handed over the pincushion with “Mia madre...” and a gesture to the package. He opened it up and read the note out loud. It was in Italian so I have no idea what it said but his smile got broader and broader and he said a lot of delighted things in Italian. Other than “Gratzie mille” I’m unsure what he said, but he was very happy. 

I continued on to find an obscure little museum featuring Pietra Dura - pictures made with inlaid rock. The museum was tiny and they sting you six Euro to get in, probably to pay the wages of the five staff working there. It was sooo beautiful though. Here’s a photo of part of a table. 

It’s interesting to see how well staffed everything is here. Restaurants, hotels, even a tiny clothing shop I went into had four staff in a five square meter space. I spent the rest of the morning walking through the streets on the other side of the Arno. I found a shop where they make and sell Pietra Dura but the prices for even the basic pieces were north of a thousand euro so nothing is coming home with me. Lunch was at an outdoor table in a small square, fried artichoke and then lasagna. The place looked dubious but the food was delicious. 

I’d booked a golf cart tour in the afternoon. My idea was to get information about all the places I was seeing but…. as in Rome, these things are not staffed with proper guides. My driver spoke English, but only about five words, consisting of “very nice” and “1000 years old”. He said these phrases a lot. There was a little audio guide that he would turn on from time to time, generally when he was stopped just before the place of interest. Since I was behind him, facing backwards, I had to wait to see what the information was about as he drove off. It was a wild ride -he alternately yelled at people to get out of the way or yelled hello to people he knew. It was pretty funny, but very cold (could be the wind from the speed at which he drove), and I was relieved when the two hours was up. 

Dinner was at a little restaurant in the block behind my hotel  - white bean soup with vegetables and kale. Warm and hearty it was delicious and together with the glass of red was a cosy ending to a big day of exploration.