Prelude.
This was to be our big day in Florence. The big day of the trip in a way, except that every day had been so big. It was hard then and is hard now to imagine days so packed with … So packed. Amazing days. And this was to be a big one.
And so, I am not sure how to share it. I cannot tell the story, for that would take too long to write, and you would surely give up before the end. I cannot just paste in a bunch of photos, for you would tire of them, and in any event you would never quite get a real sense of the day from a bunch of context-free pictures.
This is, of course, the dilemma of this medium. Maybe if you were sitting across from me, I could do it all more justice. You’d hear my voice, and I might try to light up my eyes as my father does when he gets involved in telling a story. But you’re not here, and I’m not there, so let’s just get started.
Museo San Marco.
Our first stop was Museo San Marco, walking distance (as was everything) from where we were staying.
The cloister itself was worth the visit. But there were frescos by Fra Angelico. And there was a spacious, quiet library where monks once dutifully copied and translated and illuminated, turning incremental accomplishments into a life’s work and sometimes world’s treasure. (Although for all those treasures, think of the monks, generation after generation, who labored patiently on contributions that have left no trace. Think of them.)
And there were the chambers of Savonarola, which somehow made me think of Ted Cruz, but I get nowhere when I think that way, thinking only of the end and not of the middle.
Museo Nazionale del Bargello.
Here, we saw fleet-of-foot Mercury
whose feet clearly felt better than mine that day (and the preceding). And we saw three Davids to supplement yesterday.
Lunch.
Our midday meal was colorful and satisfying.
And we were very happy to get off our feet, or at least I was, because (Are you getting a sense of this?) my feet were hurting from blisters, although frankly it’s just amazing what Neosporin can do.