The night had started out abysmally. Our attempt to find the fish resteraunt, repudidly an extremly good place, failed utterly. Itallian streets are poorly numbered, and designations do not make sense even when you could find a reference point.
We stumbled around for another half hour. Hunger gnawed at our nerves; already frayed from too many museums in one day and too many hours on our feet. Finally a concensus was reached on a small courtyard Ristorante, as our host country calls them. There we hit our first break.
Delcious food was followed by excellent conversation. One of the things I like about Italy is that when you step into a eatery of any kind, the table you sit down at is yours for the evening, not until you finish eating, but the whole evening, as long as you want to stay. It's glorious, and very conducive to copious amounts of verbage.
A short walk (our wanderings had somehow led us closer to our place of residence than the original objective) leaves my brother and I alone outside our rented apartment. Our parents, retiring early, left us with the keys and instructions to be extremely quiet upon our return. Accepting the challenge, we turned to the Piazza behind us and made our brave way into the night.
Some mild discussion led us aimlessly to another corner of the Piazza where a street musician was holding an impromptou concert. The tunes of David Bowie, Simon and Garfunkel, and Cat Stevens filled the air. I found myself filled with the kind of happiness that only contentment can provide, and my brother and I passed an hour listening to Ken Mercer (find him on facebook. DOOOO IT).
We listened and talked. I watched the people around us. A small crowd of about two hundred had gathered amidst the statues (this particular portion of the piazza held many marble statues of greek gods and friezes from greek myth) to listen. I felt a community of strangers grow in the music, many hands, many races, many places. All one for a few hours beneath the lights of the Piazza and amid the sounds of music.
I love this city, Florence. Its the city I've connected to the most in Italy, with its shops and statues and museums and art galleries. I'll be back here some day, with someone I love, because I so desprately want to share this place, these people, these feelings.
-Doug
"Feel free to sing the chourus to this song."
-Ken Mercer, Florence. September 14, 2010.
2 comments:
My grandfather worked on the Ponte Vecchio bridge when he was 19 for 4months. He fell in love with "Julianna" whom he courted while he lived there. History might have been a little different for me if he never left the city.
I personally love Florence. Meghan and I did some damage (she made me leave). lol.
much better memories than venice yes. I liked it
-M
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