Yesterday, we came across our first glitch in planning. Both of us had been too tired the day before to see the Bargello Museum, and so thought we would leave it for the last day. Who knew that it was closed on the third and fifth Sunday of the month? So, we missed it. I would have liked to have seen it, but we are not suffering from a lack of art work in Florence, believe me, and our mid-field change in plans worked out for us, as it generally does. Hank went to the Accademia to see the original of Michaelangelo's David, now kept indoors because of the weather and threats of damage, and other major works as well. I wandered off to explore, and found - wait for it - a synagogue! It was a large and beautiful one, too, quite well visited, I must say, considering it wasn't on any of the tourist maps. Apparently, in spite of the Facist's best efforts, there are still 900 jews in Florence, and the synagogue is still in use, in spite of evidence of the Facist's blows on the Ark of the Covenant. Most of you probably don't know that my step-mother got caught outside of Hungary and wasn't allowed back to her home in Budapest. She ended up crossing the Alps on foot in the winter, and sat out the war in a basement in Italy where she was hidden by an Italian family. She never had anything but good things to say about the Italians (and considering that she usually did not have much good to say about anyone, that is saying something).
Anyway, Hank very much enjoyed his morning, as did I. We met at 1 P.M. at the Plaza of the Church of Santa Croce (sorry, Bill, we are still doing fine without a phone). The plaza itself was alive with people, Italian and tourist alike, including a jazz band improvising what sounded like Klezmer music on the Plaza), but the church itself was the big surprise. We were just filling in time, really; turns out, it was the Westminster Abbey of Florence - tombs for Michaelango, Rossini, Marconi, Gallileo, Machiavelli, and hundreds more. We were there for two and a half hours and felt like we hadn't scratched the surface - frescos by Giotto, carvings by Luca de la Robbia, and much, much more on every available surface.
Another wonderful day followed by another wonderful dinner, and then to bed.
Today was a travel day, all day. First a train to Rome, then another train from central Rome to the airport, and then the flight to Madrid. This is where we pick up my house exchange, and I was feeling rather anxious, of course. However, as promised, friends of our host were at the airport to meet us, and my Spanish was good enough for us to communicate. Yolanda and Eduardo took us back to the apartment where we will be staying, took us for a drink and to the grocery store. We are in an Eastern suburb of Madrid, and we are thinking that we will probably just drive to the Metro station, which seems to be about 10 minutes from here, and then take the Metro in to the city.
But that is for tomorrow. It has been a long day - it takes a lot of effort to concentrate on a foreign language coming at you a mile a minute, even if I think I do speak Spanish. So, tomorrow is another adventure.
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