Woke up wine woozy and happy to be exploring a new city. This trip is winding down and I’m feeling the need for good reasons to rise and head out. I have several excellent reasons today.

Some breakfast and then out into a sunshiny and breezy Firenze morning. Figured I’d make a big circuit, see what sights I could and then end up at the hotel where I was to meet some friends of a friend.

Needed a block to the street overlooking the Arno River and hung a left. The walkway On the river side of the road starts out as a promenade with gorgeous views of the river, which seems to be popular with rowers, moving their stiletto craft silently up and down the lively waterway. By the time one reaches the Ponte Vecchio, the promenade has transformed into a tightrope act with the river on one side and unrelenting traffic on the other.

Past the Ponte Vecchio on the left is a long wide plaza and the entrance to the Uffizi. There are two entrances actually, one for those who bought advance tickets, or are on a tour, and one for the rest of the world. I had considered a tour but figured I would just take my chances. bad choice. The line was long and it wasn’t moving. Way up ahead I could spot a steady stream of tour groups and advance ticket holders entering this historic place. The rest of us just stood. I was considering a Plan B, When a female voice in lilting, Italian accented English called out,

“I have a ticket for an English tour of the great masters of the Renaissance, leaving now!”

No hesitation on my part,

“I’ll take it!”

I had read about this tour online and passed on it. Now I had a chance to correct my tactical error. The woman hawking the ticket got on a Walkie Talkie as I approached. I gave her 35 Euros and her co worker arrived with my little radio and earbud for hearing the guide over the din of the cavernous galleries. Then he took me by the arm and guided me toward the that much envied, tour and advance ticket entrance. A few people in the poor planners line glared. They were probably Americans, since Italians don’t seem to take line etiquette too seriously. As we moved the guy was asking me,

“Can you hear the Guides voice?”

“Let me get this thing in my ear.”

“Can you hear him?”

“No”

He got on his Walkie,

“He can’t’ hear you Marco, talk louder…now signore?”

“Not yet, wait”

I pulled the jack out of the little radio, licked it and jammed it back in hard, in my right ear there was some crackling then,

“…now? (Crackle) Can you hear me now?”

I gave my escort a thumbs up. We had just crossed the threshold and had entered a plexiglass entrance area with a turnstile. Through the plexiglass I spotted a tall balding gent holding an iPad and talking into the mike on a headset, his lip movement matched what I was hearing in the earbud, I waved, he smiled.

Passed the chaotic turnstile, placed my shoulder bag on the chaotic conveyor belt of the X-ray machine, through the chaotic metal detector, and then plunged past a chaotic group of Chinese tourists To meet Marco the guide. We were a small group, only 7 but we were eager and ready.

The Uffizi is the first museum in the history of the western world. The collection of Renaissance paintings is unmatched, and it is complete chaos, albeit exquisite chaos. Marco guided us from gallery to gallery, we stopped to look at some Medieval works and we all had to pump up the volume on our radios because workmen were pounding on the pipes trying to get the air conditioning unit in the gallery to work. Marco was unfazed. Actually no one seemed fazed by the chaos, the noise, the pounding. I guess everyone was happy not to be standing in line.

We saw the famous Botticelli work “Birth of Venus”. We saw some DaVinci, and some Michelangelo, and a bout 50 other Renaissance painters whom I’d never heard of and all of the work was stunning. But the input, the sheer volume of sights, sounds, sensations flooding into my brain was way hard to keep up with. being hung over didn’t help much either. All the same this is one fantastic art museum. Once you are inside it is a visual and historical feast. Just be sure to get on a tour or at least get your tickets online ahead of time.

Looked around a bit more after the tour concluded and headed for a cafe. I was heading for the Academia to see the David and stopped off at a cafe called “David” that boasted free wifi. I got in, sat down, ordered some prosciutto and melon, a bottle of water amd a glass of Pinot Grigio. I got my phone onto the restaurant wifi net and set about ordering my ticket for the Academia.

The Galleria of the Academia del Arte is small and decidedly unchaotic. Getting a ticket online, even an hour or so ahead is a good move nonetheless. I entered with the 13:00 group and we did the X-ray, metal detector dance before stepping into a quiet and high ceilinged series of galleries to view, more medieval and Renaissance artworks. I was surprised at the high quality of the pieces there. Either they were very well kept over the centuries or the restoration team at the Academia extremely talented.

Down a long hall one can view unfinished sculptures my Michelangelo. The rough, thick-muscled figures look like they are trying to break free of the marble that is holding them captive. They looked like a double rank of Golems, waiting to hear the magic words that would awake them. I thought about the quote, attributed to Michelangelo, I think, that says that a statue is within every block of marble, and all one must do is chip away everything that isn’t the statue.

At the end of this long hall, under a translucent dome and wurrounded by a fence of plate glass, is the statue of David. He looks like a beautiful young boy, still in puberty, still yet to grow into his large hands and feet. He stands completely nude, and utterly unashamed. His head us turned a but to the left, eyes are fixed on something he has spotted I the distance. His left had is instinctively reaching for the sling he had dropped over his shoulder, while his right hand absently weighs the stoned he holds. I took a few pictures and then stopped. There was no point really. I found an open spot on a nearby bench and just sat and looked that this thing. This makes two perfect things that I’ve experienced since coming to Europe, Sacher Torte, and Michelangelo’s statue of David. I just sat and looked for a long time. I changed seats now and then, and from every angle this work of art was captivating. To know that human beings are capable of creating such beauty was reassuring and humbling all at once. I allowed myself to just get lost in the moment.

I left the Academia feeling a little dazed. I had forgotten what was next and decided to consult my map. Ah Yes, the Central Market. A brisk walk took me to the central food market, which is along the lines of the Grand Central Market in LA, only much more sophisticated. There were all kinds of food choices but I knew I was meeting folks later so I settled for some Prosciutto, mozzarella cheese, and red wine. A perfect treat as I indulged In some people watching. Outside the market there are all sorts of stalls with merchants selling leather goods and clothing and souvenirs. The smell of leather hung I the air and the voices of the merchants striving to attract customers came together in a chaotic sound like a crescendo of bebop jazz just before the final, eventual return to the original theme. Just so with this adventure, this trip, this Hejira that I am on. I’ve reached that chaotic crescendo of conflicting themes, dissonances, harmonies and in just a few bars there will be no place left to go on the chart but back to the beginning, and when I get there I already know I’ll be playing that old tune in a new fresh way. Ain’t no back to go to baby, only forward, ever forward.

A 30 minute nap at the hotel was hardly enough to prepare me for the evening to come. It began as a polite meeting for wine and conversation between myself and the gang from the Global Theatre Project. Wine led to conversation, which led to more wine which led to a laughing and animated dinner at Trattoria Sabbatino in the shadow of the remains of the wall that had been erected to protect Florence from invaders in the 15th century. More wine was consumed along with Papardelle pasta with rabbit, Florentine tripe, and a perfectly ripe persimmon for dessert. A dessert wine called Vino Santo was served along with biscotti, which are to be dunked in the wine and enjoyed. Vino Santo is sacramental wine and dipping a biscotti in it is a sort of reminder of the sacrament of communion. and it tastes good too.

A fitting end to a meal that was the first in a long, long time st I had shared with my old tribe of Theatre folk. Even thought we had never met before we knew each other on a deep level. The Vino Santo was just the way to remember to be thankful for this communion, is blessing, this benediction. It left a weary traveller refreshed enough in sprit, to complete this journey and seek out the next.