I'd be lying if I said every day in Florence is a day in paradise. In fact, this year, I've been a little blue... Lonely maybe? Bored (get over THAT...) Thinking of a year ago? I dunno. Just ain't been all prociutto and pecorino these first couple of weeks.
But today dawned glorious: nearly 60 degrees out, sunny and prime walking weather, so off I went for a toodle. It's funny how -- even in a place as various and spectacular as Florence -- we, or at least I, choose the same routes, the same vistas, the same experiences until something jolts us out of our expected ways. But today, I figured I needed a change of scene so I went a different way.
Crossing the Arno at "my bridge," (Ponte alle Grazie) I walked along the other side of the river heading toward the Ponte Vecchio. The sun was behind me and the weather so warm I took off my sweater and slung it over my bag walking in shirt sleeves. (Curious looks be damned from the Fiorentina senoras in their fur coats and boots who must have thought me crazy as a loon.) I walked passed gorgeous building on the Oltrarno side, (with fabulous flats on the upper stories) discovered restaurants and stores I had only read about and finally, gloriously, was rewarded with a wonderful find: Whole Foods Florence.
Okay, I'm speaking metaphorically here... It wasn't Whole Foods at all, but it was, praise be to Allah, not the awful grotto grocery store I usually visit on my side of the river. This place, the fabuloso Sapori Dintorni (a Conad store, what ever that means...) was pretty great. Good produce, fine selection of meats and cheeses, bakery, dry goods, wine... etc. etc. All good, well stocked and delectable looking.
Intending, at first, to do reconnaisance for a later strike, I broke down and decided to just get 'er done. So into my little rolly basket went salad, panna, veal cutlets for supper, vegetables for soup, q-tips and a lovely roasting chicken. Bene.
I left the store, stuffing the bag into my purse (big purse... thank you, Richard,) and continued walking along Borgo S. Jacopo turning to cross the Arno again at Ponte S. Trinita. I came upon two women, one pushing a carriage speaking English. I said, "hello... cute baby," (as one would,) and in the course of a quick conversation learned one of the walkers (and a pretty posh one, at that) had spent summers at Black Point. Yep. I'll bet she did. And I'll bet she lives in one of those incredible apartments overlooking the river, too. (And nice Bottega Veneta bag, while we're at it...)
Back toward home now, stopping at my wine guy for a little bottle to go with the veal, and soon enough, up the stairs to my flat feeling much envigorated.
The chicken's in the oven, wine's in the glass and the windows are still open letting the twilight of a hopeful afternoon continue to permeate my sensibility.
I feel much better. 