There had been a mild uprising on the bus the previous day when we learned that the Galleria dell’Accademia in Florence was not included on our tour. Anselmo, speaking rapidly in Italian, made many phone calls while Andre drove, each call becoming more intense. At long last, those of us who wished to see Michelangelo’s original “David” sculpture had tickets waiting for us the next morning.
In 1501, at the age of 26, Michelangelo was commissioned by the Cathedral Works Committee to complete one of a series of statues for the roof of Florence Cathedral. He was given a leftover piece of Carrara marble. Three years later, “David,” standing 17 feet high, was unveiled. Because of the nature of the Biblical hero’s story, “David” soon became the symbol of the threatened Florentine Republic.
Needless to say, the statue is magnificent. From the look in his eyes, to veins on his forearms, to the valiant way he clutches the rock and the slingshot, this statue is a sight to behold. I walked slowly around it, taking it in from every angle. It is clearly the showpiece of the entire Galleria, the domed room and subdued lighting further enhance its importance.
Next was the walking tour of Florence, which in my opinion, was too far, too fast, and after seeing the real “David,” seeing the copy positioned in the town square was rather anti-climatic for me. The cathedrals all began to look alike, and I honestly couldn’t tell one from another. I did manage to find a leather purse for my niece’s college graduation, though, and I didn’t pay anywhere near 155 euros for it!
Late in the afternoon we boarded the bus for Pisa. Since dinners are eaten so late by my standards, beginning between 7:30 and 9 p.m., there was plenty of time left in the day. The tour bus was parked and we attempted to board the small shuttle. Attempted, because this activity rivaled New York subways at rush hour. Finally, one of our group, a retired Marine, held out his arm and physically blocked the hordes of Asian tourists mashing everyone in their path. I was truly afraid someone of our group would get hurt getting on or off, but thankfully we all survived.
We walked from the shuttle through masses of what Anselmo described as “gypsies,” pressuring us to buy all manner of Happy Crap. Many of these people hail from northern Africa, and some of their goods looked authentic, but not from Italy. Other items were clearly “Made in China.” I made a note to think about a couple umbrellas with scenes from Italy all around them, and marched forward along the 25 foot tall stone wall surrounding the Pisa Cathedral and Bell Tower.
And once again, I was stunned by what I saw when we passed under the wall’s entry arch. There it was: The Leaning Tower of Pisa! And for the first spring in 20 years, there was no scaffolding on it. Accentuated by the brilliant blue sky and a few puffy white clouds, the tower defies logic and gravity, and yet, there it is. If you look closely, as Anselmo pointed out, you will see that an attempt was made to correct the lean as they constructed the top two stories. The tower actually leans more like a subtle banana shape, out then slightly back at the top.
I was able to exchange some American cash for euros at a very competitive exchange rate while we were there, guided to the small glassed booth in the back of a curio shop by Ans, who seems to know everyone and everything along our route. I’d run a little low on euros due to the fact that almost every evening there’s an “optional” event or activity, and I had determined before I left home to experience every single thing possible.
That evening, for 40 more euros each, we were transported to a winery “farmhouse” and served a family style dinner of many courses. All food and drink was produced right there, from the bread for the tomato/basil bruschetta to the handmade pasta to the flame-cooked sausages, chicken and pork, to the six types of wine placed on the table to freely sample. This was quite different from hotel dinners, where beverages are always extra.
The live music started in the courtyard outside before dinner was finished, and I passed on the biscotti and dessert wines to participate in a little dancing in the moonlight. And then they played a rumba, and our guide and driver cleared the cobblestones with their flamboyant, energetic dance competition. A sight to behold! How in the world did they have all that energy left at the end of such a day?!