tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22495337861089473452024-03-20T08:06:13.417-07:00Beautiful FlorenceRosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-71674294409471118202023-12-25T09:14:00.000-08:002023-12-25T09:19:43.584-08:00Christmas 2023 in Florence: Discovering a Mannerist Masterwork<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitbIHNlHwKx-8eSI05i7fc9KgZP7bWaNFTqloUPg-1KBPB255QckdxnHXm_xzfNsMQGKvm95ZuK_UqB2UjVV2GEk1zVDMscHpRvapX9TXHZOYF9YEFVfaB_OoLHRkKzeG9NAkEYYEgYEyFOBZpTrhW0nteA6mozx8MRZSDw2moF55wOj45Ntgvr-Z_zoU" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitbIHNlHwKx-8eSI05i7fc9KgZP7bWaNFTqloUPg-1KBPB255QckdxnHXm_xzfNsMQGKvm95ZuK_UqB2UjVV2GEk1zVDMscHpRvapX9TXHZOYF9YEFVfaB_OoLHRkKzeG9NAkEYYEgYEyFOBZpTrhW0nteA6mozx8MRZSDw2moF55wOj45Ntgvr-Z_zoU=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sculpture attributed to Tribolo in the loggiato of Borgo degli Albizi 15</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"> Well, the old doorman at Borgo degli Albizi, Alberico, would place illumination in the shape of a shooting star every Christmas on this sculpture in the covered courtyard of a Renaissance building where my office is located. He identified the author of the work as no less than Michelangelo.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I always took that attribution with a grain of salt; however, a visit by art historian Jonathan Nelson earlier this year solved the mystery. "There's a Tribolo near the entrance," he stated authoritatively.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The name sounded familiar: indeed Tribolo (aka Niccolò di Raffaello, 1500-1550) was a Florentine artist, sculptor and architect, most famous for the initial design of the Boboli Gardens and for his layout of the Medici Villa di Castello, with its terraces, fountains and grottoes. He was also an assistant to Renaissance artist Andrea Sansovino (1467 - 1529), the name that Andrea Contucci was known by since he came from the Tuscan village of Monte San Savino. Funnily enough, that was also Alberico's home town before coming to Florence</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">What was Tribolo's connection, if any, to Michelangelo?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A court artist of Grand Duke Cosimo de' Medici, he was sent by his employer to Rome to try to persuade the Renaissance genius to return to Florence and finish his work on the Laurentian Library, to no avail. The commission was completed by Tribolo himself, together with Vasari and Ammannati, based on Michelangelo's project sketches.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Some of Tribolo's drawings were to be erroneously identified as being by Michelangelo by art historians in the 17th and 18th centuries, a sure sign of his influence.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So Alberico wasn't so far off. After Dr. Nelson shed light on the centuries-old mystery, the current person at the door, Rosie, finally took up his old tradition of illuminating the sculpture, this time at its base.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Buon Natale!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>-- Rosanna</i></div><p></p>Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-53909223830399795922023-05-26T04:19:00.024-07:002023-05-31T22:35:24.779-07:00The 1993 Florence Bomb Blast: A Memoir<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6X35juWtLb0hk60xnM5oL4R-tNOuLcvPh086MF7KFmNyHrNw-8kq3FG85SE-Or8ighLMejL8Dz8ao0_uGdKNz5oYpHQkn2E3kaMFs2oMiBMUcKbfDGa_2Vhz4FDCATjtT2Fdsnz0nTT-5-7Xwk1hJ3BSoVUoIQrYQpjgExOdU5QkOf8_6A5RgKk-E/s959/View%20of%20Florence%20copy.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="959" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6X35juWtLb0hk60xnM5oL4R-tNOuLcvPh086MF7KFmNyHrNw-8kq3FG85SE-Or8ighLMejL8Dz8ao0_uGdKNz5oYpHQkn2E3kaMFs2oMiBMUcKbfDGa_2Vhz4FDCATjtT2Fdsnz0nTT-5-7Xwk1hJ3BSoVUoIQrYQpjgExOdU5QkOf8_6A5RgKk-E/w640-h454/View%20of%20Florence%20copy.png" title="The Florence skyline at night" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Florence was experiencing a precocious heat wave in late May, 1993, so much so that I was outside on my home terrace on at 1:04 am on May 27 when a bomb planted in a car went off on via dei Georgofili near the Uffizi Gallery. Living just beyond the historic center past Porta Romana, I did not hear the explosion, but artist Charles Cecil on via Pandolfini did, remembering that it was followed by the sound </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">of sirens screaming all night long.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When dawn broke, the Torre dei Pulci (Pulci Tower) on via dei Georgofili was heavily devastated, and five of its inhabitants -- the Nencioni family: mother, father, their nine-year-old daughter Nadia in addition to daughter Caterina, less than two months old -- plus a neighbor who lived across the street, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">student Dario Capolicchio -- were dead.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Also damaged was the library and archives of the Georgofili Academy (Accademia dei Georgofili), an institution devoted to the study of agriculture and the science of soil management and crop production since its establishment at that location in 1753. Not to mention the 173 paintings and 56 sculptures at the Uffizi Gallery, the near destruction of the Antica Fattore trattoria on via Lambertesca, and the slivers of glass shattered from windows that lodged in the works on display at Ken's Art Gallery on the same street.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was assumed that that the cause of the tragedy was a gas leak. It was not until 12 noon on May 27 that word spread throughout Florence that what triggered the tragedy was a bomb. As I well remember, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the atmosphere in Florence turned into one of lead, gray and weighty.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In this surreal moment, I reported to work as usual to La Repubblica's editorial offices (then on via Maggio) at 6 pm, to write my daily column in English published by the newspaper.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I received two phone calls: one from the BBC in London, and the other by a Sunday Telegraph journalist who had just arrived in town, like others of the international press.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The upshot was that at 8 pm, first I did a rehearsal then a one-minute live broadcast on the bomb blast for BBC World Service. A surprise question at the end threw me off but I kept my composure to answer it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Who was responsible?" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As always, I spoke the truth: "it is believed to be the Mafia."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I was immensely relieved later when it was revealed that indeed was the case.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmIV-0Tb40TikjvXoiq7TQXtGEA3opStJClzNSrUSi1i_K9EeQ1lrFEGSTNgF34WNKeQiI8BiSs9s5bJGDObOxKFyJ1Dk_8YDjYRBoaGQjm--Wa7889vurTf7ZbkAfebCsyEpjQcC1-JlrWJjmQTumxxxmfry_uTSm_ATNtZb7lGRJotEUbUeMWQKW/s2279/IMG_6247.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1916" data-original-width="2279" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmIV-0Tb40TikjvXoiq7TQXtGEA3opStJClzNSrUSi1i_K9EeQ1lrFEGSTNgF34WNKeQiI8BiSs9s5bJGDObOxKFyJ1Dk_8YDjYRBoaGQjm--Wa7889vurTf7ZbkAfebCsyEpjQcC1-JlrWJjmQTumxxxmfry_uTSm_ATNtZb7lGRJotEUbUeMWQKW/w400-h336/IMG_6247.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Those at the BBC news service kindly sent me a cassette of my coverage.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have always kept it in the office, but never, have brought myself to listen to it: it is too harrowing to listen to my voice narrating a tragedy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After a quick dinner, I met the Sunday Telegraph reporter for what I assumed would be a quick drink at Harry's Bar in order to be his source for the article.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPbHkfhQ94XJrd0A-oQitwP3IV9jc5S0yYDZWk4SAZDR2t9dLw0qg7OfuZz_-ElNjQaVKdamPvZCgkuGIzLUHrFI4P1YYwU2RpfyZQtE1g86gWxHX_pYixqq1X71OGnjtNbNop6UUydwPCTfKtnhmnU4yRSniYStJGfHn_Cn7NOcaOqpv7tBEtm3_/s1957/Harry's%20Bar%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1655" data-original-width="1957" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPbHkfhQ94XJrd0A-oQitwP3IV9jc5S0yYDZWk4SAZDR2t9dLw0qg7OfuZz_-ElNjQaVKdamPvZCgkuGIzLUHrFI4P1YYwU2RpfyZQtE1g86gWxHX_pYixqq1X71OGnjtNbNop6UUydwPCTfKtnhmnU4yRSniYStJGfHn_Cn7NOcaOqpv7tBEtm3_/w400-h339/Harry's%20Bar%20copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Well, the talk lasted nearly an hour and a half. The English journalist, living up the reputation of press from the UK, knocked back <i>four doubles </i>in front of my incredulous eyes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">While answering his questions, I slowly drank two gin and tonics. The barman, who was Lio at that time, was impassible, continuing to mix drinks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At the end of our conversation, the journalist said; "I am going back to my hotel room as I need to send in the story by 4 am." I thought, "buddy, in your hotel room </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">you are going to fall on your face."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9WyzbaEjT7DZf_Wn6VtBCYMj7g8lKhKVuKpLFxG7Qm_GA8jSTAjYgCGjvVpSRiRHMeLIKFbSViakF3wBBFG7qFc5aYoLcDk-IGQDrAmSNkaR5p-SjQIITrJ9GzPNc6gN2id5omvf7v60oiC50BfQ3LeslRbIUbEmuBrT8rU637WnXcCUrQRHQckk/s2491/IMG_6226.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1887" data-original-width="2491" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9WyzbaEjT7DZf_Wn6VtBCYMj7g8lKhKVuKpLFxG7Qm_GA8jSTAjYgCGjvVpSRiRHMeLIKFbSViakF3wBBFG7qFc5aYoLcDk-IGQDrAmSNkaR5p-SjQIITrJ9GzPNc6gN2id5omvf7v60oiC50BfQ3LeslRbIUbEmuBrT8rU637WnXcCUrQRHQckk/w400-h303/IMG_6226.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm not sure whether he made the 4 am deadline, but in any case the article ran the following Sunday, May 30, 1993, in the Telegraph. It was impeccable reporting; in addition, I was quoted accurately. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I should know -- he sent me a copy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On the 30th anniversary of the bomb blast, Florence is hosting many events to remember the tragedy triggered by the Mafia's desire to destabilize the government, which had organized</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">unrelentless investigations and arrests.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My homage to the 30th anniversary of the Georgofili bomb blast is to show my gentle readers </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">an all-too-prophetic poem written by nine-year-old Nadia Nencioni in school a few short weeks before her death:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="border: 0px; color: #2f2f2f; font-family: sans-serif; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 15px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>SUNSET</i></span></p><p style="border: 0px; color: #2f2f2f; font-family: sans-serif; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 15px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>The afternoon is on its way</i></span></p><p style="border: 0px; color: #2f2f2f; font-family: sans-serif; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 15px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>Sunset is approaching</i></span></p><p style="border: 0px; color: #2f2f2f; font-family: sans-serif; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 15px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>– a moment of wonder</i></span></p><p style="border: 0px; color: #2f2f2f; font-family: sans-serif; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 15px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>The sun is heading to bed</i></span></p><p style="border: 0px; color: #2f2f2f; font-family: sans-serif; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 15px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>It is already night, all is finished</i></span></p><p style="border: 0px; color: #2f2f2f; font-family: sans-serif; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 15px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>-- reporting live from <i>Beautiful Florence</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>-- Rosanna</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-13132927520372738072023-02-13T13:36:00.012-08:002023-06-04T06:33:07.938-07:00A Valentine's Surprise<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3064PforZnZbGLNnxpJCGrvM92R3pyjmy-GQL40ChQWwi92pYwZK9oTE881p0vEKEH1COnJXs-YwpVckO9HhhsT-SFSFLN7WkSzTzSZr2zwbKJALWrPcrQo9ZJiofsXjVTNPYY2L6W5bPfx9eSAGv7LMCqh-scRypbshCNvKXGBlzBqITNwLH5HUA"><img alt="" data-original-height="2677" data-original-width="3007" height="570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3064PforZnZbGLNnxpJCGrvM92R3pyjmy-GQL40ChQWwi92pYwZK9oTE881p0vEKEH1COnJXs-YwpVckO9HhhsT-SFSFLN7WkSzTzSZr2zwbKJALWrPcrQo9ZJiofsXjVTNPYY2L6W5bPfx9eSAGv7LMCqh-scRypbshCNvKXGBlzBqITNwLH5HUA=w640-h570" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Despite the state of the world, love is alive and well in Florence, Italy, as can be seen in this </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> piece of wall graffiti, unsigned, in the Monte Oliveto neighborhood.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In English it reads</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">ELENA</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">EVERY MORNING</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">YOU ARE MY</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">FIRST THOUGHT</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(or more poetically)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">YOU ARE THE FIRST THOUGHT THAT COMES TO MIND</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">EVERY MORNING </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">ELENA</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Well, I came across this romantic inscription after having walked unintentionally for miles. I simply meant to renew my car insurance at the Unipol Sai office across from Piazza Tasso. I had forgotten, however, that the 36 and 36 bus lines had been rerouted since Christmas due to a sinkhole in Borgo San Frediano.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So I walked there from Porta Romana. After signing the appropriate documents, I asked how to get to my office in downtown Florence located between the Cathedral and Santa Croce. Walk straight ahead, I was told, hang a left at the Esselunga supermarket on via Pisana, and continue to the Paolo Uccello tram stop.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The tram would take me to the Station, not exactly the best solution, but it seemed the only option.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Like everything in Italy, it was not.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is the land where the art of <i>arrangarsi </i>(finding an alternative)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">reigns supreme.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lo and behold, I saw a #6 bus roll by.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiXV1cZuZFYigGdgC6GTARkvez6VZfaegiRT6wUVshDC_oU76fyMXxm_DbQY4zVD4Jy_MBkgm0ugsLJYQr3tkDZ1sFV6p0XsdGGMklJRABppKLGUY8VPmjdhK1hIEBQ4CFBALKl3XEs1Tw1NkJ5Dmbb68_geZPZV-k_3N-DNnBBUulg2cdY7-wwgwd/s1647/bus6aback%20copy%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1463" data-original-width="1647" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiXV1cZuZFYigGdgC6GTARkvez6VZfaegiRT6wUVshDC_oU76fyMXxm_DbQY4zVD4Jy_MBkgm0ugsLJYQr3tkDZ1sFV6p0XsdGGMklJRABppKLGUY8VPmjdhK1hIEBQ4CFBALKl3XEs1Tw1NkJ5Dmbb68_geZPZV-k_3N-DNnBBUulg2cdY7-wwgwd/w400-h355/bus6aback%20copy%20copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I quickly asked information of a random person walking by who told me to keep bearing left. Past the road leading up to Villa Strozzi, once the home of Polimoda, a long way before the Paolo Uccello tram stop, I found a #6 bus stop.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I also found the romantic writing on the wall, obviously intended for Elena to lay eyes on every day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I barely had time to register the loving message when I saw a #6 turning a corner. I only had </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">a split second to take the picture </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and managed not to drop my I phone before jumping on the bus.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And no time to check the bus route. So I asked the good looking, 35ish bus driver, where </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">bus #6 was heading.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Al manicomio</i> (the insane asylum) he answered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Say again, </i>I said.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Same answer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Figuring he was having a bad day, I then asked where I could get off in downtown Florence.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Via Vecchietti, near Piazza Repubblica, was his answer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Perfetto!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Upon arrival in the office, I repeated this anecdote to Magenta Publishing intern Parker Hurley, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">who, being a newcomer, was deeply intrigued by the mysterious ways of Italians.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Well, the mystery was revealed later that week by my hairdresser, Federico of BZ on via Senese.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The hair salon is located near Porta Romana, so the story goes full circle.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk316hxNBr7x6pc6SxRnNsT7tpI1IJjC_y5fcdRHh6p2YxfS5bXOwLRq--N09T42qLOF1zfz6YexNJwDYZ0Ukc_QxRW6n7Fa3lBhQ9-ywMOz7OmzOK2qb1zga3f6q6fznylnfl6dAPr3dUHDSed9ld-CC8priOeeZxJI5gwjsiRhT-vKqEDKeNHqZQ/s3024/Federico.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2260" data-original-width="3024" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk316hxNBr7x6pc6SxRnNsT7tpI1IJjC_y5fcdRHh6p2YxfS5bXOwLRq--N09T42qLOF1zfz6YexNJwDYZ0Ukc_QxRW6n7Fa3lBhQ9-ywMOz7OmzOK2qb1zga3f6q6fznylnfl6dAPr3dUHDSed9ld-CC8priOeeZxJI5gwjsiRhT-vKqEDKeNHqZQ/w400-h299/Federico.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"The end of the line of the #6 is the former insane asylum at San Salvi," he told me.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He thought me not understanding the bus driver's answer hilarious, as you can seen from his smile.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">San Salvi slowly closed, like all psychiatric hospitals in Italy, between 1978 and the 1998 thanks to the Basaglia law.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In fact, in the '80s I lived in the adjacent Bellariva neighborhood and clearly remember former inmates aimlessly walking the streets trying to bum a cigarette from residents.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">San Salvi is now home to a theatre group, Chille de la Balanza, whose members reside in one of the pavilions. Chille de la Balanza's mission, funded by the Municipality of Florence, is to create performances and community projects that keep the sad history of San Salvi -- once home to 5,000 inmates -- from slipping from mind.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Indelible, like the message to Elena.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Well, the visit to the hairdresser brought two other revelations, furnished by Federico's mother, Laura, who does the shampoo before the cut and blow dry styling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvF_1Reb8xK65Ap-ZIv4QHslpdhe9M4pYe-xTH0IoTohUtSx6wdcvwIjTkrfKf0fOSuegIAepiyhZ3lWKqZOdEyrY6C2bWfh-hCAXZ6zloaZm6TS4R90MCJbCAKqW087NoOSeL3HbPaB672rv9k_MNnVTrYBHg9TrP1lg1RSvOdR9FkAm0qhkzwDG/s3018/Laura%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2509" data-original-width="3018" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvF_1Reb8xK65Ap-ZIv4QHslpdhe9M4pYe-xTH0IoTohUtSx6wdcvwIjTkrfKf0fOSuegIAepiyhZ3lWKqZOdEyrY6C2bWfh-hCAXZ6zloaZm6TS4R90MCJbCAKqW087NoOSeL3HbPaB672rv9k_MNnVTrYBHg9TrP1lg1RSvOdR9FkAm0qhkzwDG/w400-h333/Laura%20copy.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She reminded me of what I already knew, that many of the buildings at San Salvi today host offices of the Health Department, the <i>Asl.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"</i>San Salvi where you go to get your physical and eye exam to in order to have your driver's license renewed at age 80 and up," she said. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Federico and I burst out laughing, and I said I would keep this piece of information in mind.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Returning to the photo of the romantic message on the wall next to the bus stop, which sparked the conversation, I said, "but it had no signature," which I thought strange.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Of course not, said Laura, ever practical. "Graffiti is illegal. If signed, the police would track down the author, and he would be fined."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Later I learned, from a <i>Repubblica </i>article, that the fine ranges from 5,000 to 15,000 euro and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the anonymous poet also risked up to <b>five years in jail.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Once again, the art of <i>arrangarsi! </i>Hence the silence.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">True love, however, overcomes every obstacle.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The message is loud and clear, despite the law.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"You are my first thought every day."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Valentine's Day!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i> reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i> --Rosanna</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-19084681787775951692022-12-30T10:34:00.027-08:002023-01-17T07:51:11.357-08:00A Farewell to 2022 in Florence & Tuscany, Part II<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Well, 2022 was also the year that saw the return of the Antiques Biennale to Palazzo Corsini after a</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> three-year hiatus. There, I unexpectedly came face to face with an original Andy Warhol silkscreen of Queen Elizabeth II. When did he create this? Obviously when she was young-ish.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The great lady herself passed on September 8 -- which in Italy is celebrated as the birthday of the </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Virgin Mary. I attended part of the Queen's commemoration at </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the British Institute of Florence.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqxttk2X2XQd9DcmnqxbjBDHADj9bFP99qcUKWSdDQo6uL8OoB2Eic3DZHBw9q_BBY64Y6Cixm1ZwFbnbDlKyQQRePFoEtdsNvDp2FbtcB0zL5408KadvXUyZ-vihbWbWSnAe2Xxtx9Gsg8CHd9PdMjNE10d06D-qVv6xSo9j0K2G74F-kN_ziEtZB" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqxttk2X2XQd9DcmnqxbjBDHADj9bFP99qcUKWSdDQo6uL8OoB2Eic3DZHBw9q_BBY64Y6Cixm1ZwFbnbDlKyQQRePFoEtdsNvDp2FbtcB0zL5408KadvXUyZ-vihbWbWSnAe2Xxtx9Gsg8CHd9PdMjNE10d06D-qVv6xSo9j0K2G74F-kN_ziEtZB=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /></div><span><div style="text-align: center;"> Much of 2022 seemed like an endless summer, so much so that after Vista magazine came out, appearing like the Antiques Biennale, as after a pause due to Covid -- I was was able to go to the beach several times for R&R.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here I am in mid October (!) at Castiglioncello, I was given a heroine's welcome at a seaside restaurant, La Lucciola, since they hadn't seen me all year, was given the best table, then took a swim and lay down to sun at the water's edge. It was so gorgeous that I thought when I closed my eyes I would soar up into the endless blue sky. Well, I didn't, but this is what I saw when I opened my eyes.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjYVYOsNqct7h06g5t7-MgxPyC8XK6F0xrwPWtqdxYvuZLZ55HbGU1YC0eNfL9x2W6yWV6tfPF5bvJ4raQ8GfhU3m3hUHeeXYh5d9c0k7_xVIKaqHDVhwSua19MPAJQVwcA9LoL6h8-aI3vfwCYPa8QB4obzd0_JR-09-ouyZezMfHl9RUZ4bQetLW" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjYVYOsNqct7h06g5t7-MgxPyC8XK6F0xrwPWtqdxYvuZLZ55HbGU1YC0eNfL9x2W6yWV6tfPF5bvJ4raQ8GfhU3m3hUHeeXYh5d9c0k7_xVIKaqHDVhwSua19MPAJQVwcA9LoL6h8-aI3vfwCYPa8QB4obzd0_JR-09-ouyZezMfHl9RUZ4bQetLW=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br />November brought the White Truffle Festival in San Minato near Pisa, to which I returned after</div><div style="text-align: center;">10 years, having visited with Rita Kungel, photographer Carly and Gabrielle Taylor. The warm scent of truffle permeated all through the streets of San Miniato, which is one of only two areas in Tuscany where the culinary delicacy is unearthed in the fall. Local restaurants offer a variety of dishes kept simple in order to highlight the delicious taste of white truffle shavings such as pasta, eggs, <i>carpaccio </i>(thinly sliced raw beef)<i>,</i> and polenta. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div> I hadn't been back to San Minato since 2011, and I called the osteria we had dined at then, <i>L'Upupu.</i> Roberto, the owner, remembered me but couldn't assure me of a reservation. This year, when Helen, video maker Isabella and myself arrived, we stopped it across from a butcher shop which was serving meals on a counter in the front room adjacent to their meat display cases. Helen had reserved there but when I saw the stools at the counter facing a stone wall, I popped my head into Roberto's tiny's establishment (which seats 20) and <i>miracolo! - </i>- there had been a last minute cancellation. We were invited in, given a table and greeted warmly by the owner and his son Ludovico, who spend most of their time in the kitchen.</div><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><blockquote style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;" type="cite"><div dir="ltr"><blockquote type="cite"><div dir="ltr"><span id="m_-1273094936129561955gmail-docs-internal-guid-1cdce1e7-7fff-9c88-7a1a-88e06a4e6688"><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzbFEFNK_v8nzMNoyr9lWIEVCmYhUWHVuwY8kwcB6rSsAKl86zUm0vZ76psJYHf7U_cvTTEn6OLhcgm_UDpFEbkqDoBacpWrEs_3CxczOz9vbv31Pr6BYVDYlZnhViWLkuaZBANYy-5nxa7FnbPEHw2zccTTJLoujv2huK9jzhVYXIazTTuTxta99J" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzbFEFNK_v8nzMNoyr9lWIEVCmYhUWHVuwY8kwcB6rSsAKl86zUm0vZ76psJYHf7U_cvTTEn6OLhcgm_UDpFEbkqDoBacpWrEs_3CxczOz9vbv31Pr6BYVDYlZnhViWLkuaZBANYy-5nxa7FnbPEHw2zccTTJLoujv2huK9jzhVYXIazTTuTxta99J=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div></div></span></div></blockquote></div></blockquote><div>The service is impeccable also given that Roberto, a Florentine, is also a devoted foodie who had worked at Gilli's in piazza Repubblica.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white;">We ordered the classic</span><i style="background-color: white;"> tagliatelline al burro e tartufo bianco </i><span style="background-color: white;">(thin egg noodles sauced with hot, melted butter and white truffle shavings). I remembered the dish cost €25 in 2011, but it was €40 now, inflation coupled with a scarcity of truffles given the 2022's high temperatures and severe drought in Tuscany. </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhxDYSQaRDg7jAwHS7UoV65StSZrGSQ-NWFaT4JCjN8hwzRTYFVOIifgXNjnfP4GUPmDNts-m2pVCX8BQwaNzK3X2xCN0mg88hVBWQBe1A8td8nlUjMGeJq9MYOIvkqBoBr72XlnQJZOdi_Dzcr0WjirS_gyhqdfTqAMAkf3L-Jao0szLJH3HTfWoCm" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2649" data-original-width="2465" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhxDYSQaRDg7jAwHS7UoV65StSZrGSQ-NWFaT4JCjN8hwzRTYFVOIifgXNjnfP4GUPmDNts-m2pVCX8BQwaNzK3X2xCN0mg88hVBWQBe1A8td8nlUjMGeJq9MYOIvkqBoBr72XlnQJZOdi_Dzcr0WjirS_gyhqdfTqAMAkf3L-Jao0szLJH3HTfWoCm=w372-h400" width="372" /></a></div><br />Scrumptious was the word. Roberto also threw in a bottle of house wine, a deletable white at only €15 and a complimentary plate of polenta in cheese sauce once again topped by shavings of local white truffle, all served by his wife.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><i>The Italy we knew and loved still exists.</i></span></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>When I walked into the British Institute before Christmas, I noticed this Christmas tree in a niche given even more depth by a scallop shell inset at the top. This is really ancient, I thought, and I was right. The decoration is characteristic of the High Renaissance of the late 1400s and early 1500s, a period for which Florence is renowned. The motif can been seen in this Renaissance painting attributed to Renaissance master Filippo Lippi, in a private collection and for sale at the Antiques Biennale (!) along with </div><div>Andy Warhol's Pop Art.</div><div><i><br /></i><span style="background-color: white;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRK5o2QO7m0V_h1GTgaBqWNGph81mn-wbPchR6sPaUz0j8akBPSjdM9fYDHDzMXvYCxlN47oPXqhYdU6uzOCJ8bZAVR9G2Dj0MFt0sJBHhHQG015nhuj1yd17K_9FUhkyhuyqnq7u0vW3h50qYR-30lMU7mZdiYe4yzs7MGABDdN26uFeNP9mYrYcz" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQ-Jl2OMpBBzwccgWK-lwKhcni7YDIe-PuNKvKETfvVdf_wTx4kEiOuL1sQRsHX76x0PWfLMpVfBrNK7-LnlQnoPnA1chGVoUAcut8fthfq2Aca0fGpBqFYcr8BCrwtYDZCQdB1lSfZvTn5XlYsnEwlv5_H25442mCybUCe4doP1Iv92SHQqswVZZV" style="background-color: transparent; clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQ-Jl2OMpBBzwccgWK-lwKhcni7YDIe-PuNKvKETfvVdf_wTx4kEiOuL1sQRsHX76x0PWfLMpVfBrNK7-LnlQnoPnA1chGVoUAcut8fthfq2Aca0fGpBqFYcr8BCrwtYDZCQdB1lSfZvTn5XlYsnEwlv5_H25442mCybUCe4doP1Iv92SHQqswVZZV=w300-h400" width="300" /></a><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRK5o2QO7m0V_h1GTgaBqWNGph81mn-wbPchR6sPaUz0j8akBPSjdM9fYDHDzMXvYCxlN47oPXqhYdU6uzOCJ8bZAVR9G2Dj0MFt0sJBHhHQG015nhuj1yd17K_9FUhkyhuyqnq7u0vW3h50qYR-30lMU7mZdiYe4yzs7MGABDdN26uFeNP9mYrYcz=w300-h400" width="300" /></div></i></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgA4XO_vb-_BycMujfOrfg8370Lazlm2VOOwmpbKUBiK6QnY6DPtTnvwu0W7sVApz0g9xvVKdX3F_7Q0vfXgMlD-5xAlK2mLAfohPsxuqFuGMlWRqV2CJUT4YNby3OALmwMgxjL8szoa3lvXcnRLlrd3GQhF9q1XAyzSoSDFeEZ-ngoqoWfqSpXLj5u" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></span></div><div><span style="text-align: left;">Looking back at Part 1 of my end-of-the-year blog, the memories are more dark while Part II comes out of the shadows into the light. Isn't that life? Back to the Renaissance, it was also a artistic technique, <i>chiaroscuro, </i>the play of light and shadow.</span></div><div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="text-align: left;">You can also see that my interests include art, nature, food and history. Italy is the perfect place for me.</span></div><div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="text-align: left;">I would like to end my 2022 reminisces by picturing my 90+-year-old neighbor Marisa in the years after World War II and share her words of wisdom.</span></div><div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjBmaR5xnsbHlgjyAICiuxdZpmfSi23AxW4UNnQTqbv3Za2JFxksJFmr1eMn_2IajSwYS4JcuHUWJcz9uBKrdmCCsrnLbbG7uhESCony4ujKPTPLG3ru1cUbTmX_U_7tcvQdWoX9_bYNAjDTjFsrMgDKy4ShcgOPX9WY-rqUdOkiAG2L4kXCADDwx00" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjBmaR5xnsbHlgjyAICiuxdZpmfSi23AxW4UNnQTqbv3Za2JFxksJFmr1eMn_2IajSwYS4JcuHUWJcz9uBKrdmCCsrnLbbG7uhESCony4ujKPTPLG3ru1cUbTmX_U_7tcvQdWoX9_bYNAjDTjFsrMgDKy4ShcgOPX9WY-rqUdOkiAG2L4kXCADDwx00=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Marisa lives on the ground floor where I have my home, and, due to her age, is there only three days a week especially to tend her garden, until daughter Paola comes to pick her up and take her away. </div><div><br /></div><div>Her roots here are strong. Besides gardening, she is a seamstress. Sewing and gardening were respectively the livelihood and hobby of my father, an Italian tailor at West Point, who could also always be found </div><div>in his vegetable patch after work. He must have intuitively felt this since, at the end of his one visit to Florence, he said to her, a complete stranger to him on her knees on the ground, </div><div>"you are a mother -- look after my daughter!" </div><div>She always has. Now I keep an eye on her, which Paola appreciates.</div><div><br /></div><div>Marisa grew up in the Tuscan hills near Londa (Rufina). Her father was a woodcutter. There was no heat, electricity or running water in her childhood home. Her uncle was killed by a German mine in 1944.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yet, when I wished her <i>Buon Anno</i> as she was leaving again with Paola, she said simply:</div><div>"Health is what's important -- the rest come in small steps."</div><div><i>La salute è tutto - il resto a piccoli passi.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I will try to remember that in 2023.</div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Happy New Year!</div><div><br /></div><div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>reporting live from <i>Beautiful Florence</i></div><div><i> </i></div><div><i> --Rosanna</i></div></div></span><p></p>Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-72989806267033116572022-12-29T10:05:00.019-08:002023-01-11T02:52:12.776-08:00A Farewell to 2022 in Florence & Tuscany, Part 1<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Well, 2022 was an adventure, <i>un anno tosto </i>(a tough year) as the daughter of my 90+ year old neighbor remarked to me on the phone the day after Christmas. The mother is Marisa and her daughter Paola. More about them later. See Part II of this blog post.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">After the Tuscan population was steamrolled by Omicron in early January, my friend Deborah and I, wearing masks as was everyone, made our annual getaway to the Tuscan ski resort Abetone. Brilliantly cold and clear, the setting was the one we found below.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6WlwOGb1pRyPgs-5U9AVHr9HAkxcoh5HLN81VKtHz-sSXq7btsVw7NSbuwDhh4roXYxV5sOcUlox0eW1pJMeuiYmX5NODp5t-6Lnyptw7HCGZSipApNIFUcIjdt4IT3ROR-qLJCZ-K1mfIB1Vhq6Rx_BNCtFQsmEPuUUmhzXApPAdbIuRHqIIyQiG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6WlwOGb1pRyPgs-5U9AVHr9HAkxcoh5HLN81VKtHz-sSXq7btsVw7NSbuwDhh4roXYxV5sOcUlox0eW1pJMeuiYmX5NODp5t-6Lnyptw7HCGZSipApNIFUcIjdt4IT3ROR-qLJCZ-K1mfIB1Vhq6Rx_BNCtFQsmEPuUUmhzXApPAdbIuRHqIIyQiG=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">The trail through the woods is a ski run. Alas, this December, this image is a mirage. Probably due to climate change, the temperatures are above freezing, there has been torrential rainfall. No snow at a ski resort. We're still hoping things will change by February at least...</p><p style="text-align: center;">The same month brought <span style="text-align: left;">the annual International Holocaust Day of Remembrance on January 27, 2022. </span><span style="text-align: left;">The Uffizi Gallery unveiled a new acquisition, a portrait of young woman with closed eyes entitled "Flame" by genocide victim German Expressionist art Rudolf Levy, who was deported from Florence. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyNwNFaCTT0F3NgCfL4VdeGxR4lPLmCwSGMqtAzYVMwEognZLs1AbbIKoLWKdS9j_ojqYVvUUnkJSe11IR5OMUnC22BTxInRvMp_oj2RfvyNf02KoIMR8MzWgkoogu4cK1p2b39ON8ruBWnxH_ZwGP_XE87pMzCTU7Jlb59zBE203hRMv3yf4yzGEo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="1885" data-original-width="2244" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyNwNFaCTT0F3NgCfL4VdeGxR4lPLmCwSGMqtAzYVMwEognZLs1AbbIKoLWKdS9j_ojqYVvUUnkJSe11IR5OMUnC22BTxInRvMp_oj2RfvyNf02KoIMR8MzWgkoogu4cK1p2b39ON8ruBWnxH_ZwGP_XE87pMzCTU7Jlb59zBE203hRMv3yf4yzGEo=w400-h336" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">Raised in an Orthodox home, Levy faced opposition in his artistic career choice. Born in Germany, he lived in Paris, Mallorca, New York, Dubrovnik and Ischia, seeking refuge. He moved to Florence in 1940 and when the Nazis occupied Italy in 1943, he went underground in Florence. Arrested by the Gestapo, imprisoned briefly in Le Murate, he was taken to Auschwitz and died there in 1944.</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Stumbling stones ("pietre di inciampo in Italian) are square-shaped memorials placed in the sidewalks of the streets of Florence.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">The stumbling stone located outside his hiding place -- a friend's apartment at piazza Santo Spirito no. 9 -- was placed there this year to ensure that posterity will not forget Rudolf Levy </span><span style="text-align: left;">and others who </span><span style="text-align: left;">suffered</span><span style="text-align: left;"> the same fate.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIGjFNV26aREm3H_PMl9QERA2KkOZKIfrgOGT9Is5iJwDOLZsTfbgUlkFI0ZBXT_qBsgC_fbSpbydD7GMzvKtzvjwG4H1go9krOn0Y_S87R0VYhR14kGhr3uV2pB81PQpSHODK90DeQtYI3021ZjMpqgNuX0u5ZkdLU86z2-upavhU8ROZ8TpQbN5G" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="1238" data-original-width="1787" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIGjFNV26aREm3H_PMl9QERA2KkOZKIfrgOGT9Is5iJwDOLZsTfbgUlkFI0ZBXT_qBsgC_fbSpbydD7GMzvKtzvjwG4H1go9krOn0Y_S87R0VYhR14kGhr3uV2pB81PQpSHODK90DeQtYI3021ZjMpqgNuX0u5ZkdLU86z2-upavhU8ROZ8TpQbN5G=w400-h278" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Well, World War II appeared in a July outing to Abetone in the company of Robert Shackelford and Harding University in Florence. I had helped set up the trip months ahead of time (in terms of logistics, arranging for mountain bikes etc.) so of course I was invited to come along. A real blessing since the summer of 2022 was one of the hottest on record -- unrelenting heat and no rain for months.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was even warm in Abetone, and cool only at the very top of the ski lift.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On the way down from the mountain, Robbie, the student group and myself stopped at </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the Museum of the Gothic Line in Pianosinatico, six miles south of Abetone, which I had never heard of before. The Gothic Line was a heavily guarded German line of defense during World War II designed to cut Italy in half from east to west, from the Tyrrhenian Sea to the Adriatic coast. Pianosinatico was right on the Gothic Line, so the museum was opened in 2019. There are also hikes of varying lengths</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to WW2 bunkers that depart from the site.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here we are at the entrance to the museum. Robbie is on the far right, with the </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">director of the museum, hand on her hip, to the left.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgffEFqF10LcFvNVuwpN4mE8fypV6NPbF3-5PU5k3wzbIwtxpnMwwBq1k7-exibYMgtsviBKR2BqoNgeuei5VAakATOIkD5mx9FUyH2zUy_4y1tMLPkhE8R1HBMb-FL7O2NY85CrLygr4UreupVlxyH5bpqisJ8PEOvuUGnNmcnHvwn0l4SBNTeCaFZ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgffEFqF10LcFvNVuwpN4mE8fypV6NPbF3-5PU5k3wzbIwtxpnMwwBq1k7-exibYMgtsviBKR2BqoNgeuei5VAakATOIkD5mx9FUyH2zUy_4y1tMLPkhE8R1HBMb-FL7O2NY85CrLygr4UreupVlxyH5bpqisJ8PEOvuUGnNmcnHvwn0l4SBNTeCaFZ=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br />The museum is divided into four rooms, each devoted to a protagonist of the WW2 campaign: partisan resistance fighters, Italian fascists, American soldiers and their German counterparts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I was amazed to find the military patch of the 10th Mountain Division, which had trained on skis at an altitude of 9,200 ft. at Camp Hale, Colorado, before arriving in the mountains around Abetone in 1944.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This was only six years before Abetone native Zeno Colò won the gold medal in the men's downhill and giant shalom skiing at the Aspen, Colorado world championships.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Americans left their footprint on the Apennine mountains here, as you can see from the Coca Cola bottle and the packages of K rations and even Milk Duds (!). .</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7Ll70Cfbxgq2xUjY5PWyGYdLUTgsEw1ZYckIqErQIG89D58RSao-Tds0h79KEym3TgNR54xWtSSpx0eqW0zHhT4wz4g8OlsfPFtrnzcA2T__noKR-LMwA_TmHPrdx3FNdk_G3c0zKMhl_6zbirfz3zslcOFHCxJ7nCpZqK67q7-0jFc6og43mTQeN" style="display: inline; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7Ll70Cfbxgq2xUjY5PWyGYdLUTgsEw1ZYckIqErQIG89D58RSao-Tds0h79KEym3TgNR54xWtSSpx0eqW0zHhT4wz4g8OlsfPFtrnzcA2T__noKR-LMwA_TmHPrdx3FNdk_G3c0zKMhl_6zbirfz3zslcOFHCxJ7nCpZqK67q7-0jFc6og43mTQeN=w320-h240" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq0yvGAmAW1MyssDDtGcYIJBIhxPV_c2H_die3OmepHdBanGzMhMPPrpn2D9ReB0JMhTKr104JT6R9USGBrHhg7T2Y4vO8RoXN4Sf-p_GT-mzawiDE36QRxZfapJcLxDukofJa6eQhDUIrRfA3r8Lr2c6MtKqLw-hFFGpjErH24VcpxJqseenUlLA4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq0yvGAmAW1MyssDDtGcYIJBIhxPV_c2H_die3OmepHdBanGzMhMPPrpn2D9ReB0JMhTKr104JT6R9USGBrHhg7T2Y4vO8RoXN4Sf-p_GT-mzawiDE36QRxZfapJcLxDukofJa6eQhDUIrRfA3r8Lr2c6MtKqLw-hFFGpjErH24VcpxJqseenUlLA4" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>They even left behind an Italian phrase book.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJM9VJwoQJg0IS36nGZHjpqJSnUeJyVGQFeE-WDp1g4wPMQe76hgLicenSu1JMZXWKJmSTBrK8G5S6QNz7ievAUjrfrEsLTZFqXyGvBj2Vsq2HKfrbWP-Sv1FTUZYPYcSnkUgft1ZhJLws59EFi3ZwNhNxp52f8cGy7FSS8Zt74rutV-fcnViUByuQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJM9VJwoQJg0IS36nGZHjpqJSnUeJyVGQFeE-WDp1g4wPMQe76hgLicenSu1JMZXWKJmSTBrK8G5S6QNz7ievAUjrfrEsLTZFqXyGvBj2Vsq2HKfrbWP-Sv1FTUZYPYcSnkUgft1ZhJLws59EFi3ZwNhNxp52f8cGy7FSS8Zt74rutV-fcnViUByuQ=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br />Unfortunately, a group of partisan resistance fighters attacked a car with German soldiers in Pianosinatico, killing an officer and an enlisted man on September 27, 1944. The Nazis rounded up 11 men in the village on the same day and shot them in revenge. Nine were over the age of 55 and one of them, Tullio Levi, was a Jew from Parma who thought he had found a safe and remote place to hide.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In the spirit of my photo taken along the walkway to the museum,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i> rest in peace.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHdUygPcKPBddcmpHM89ZXYBdPxqFcDNvky47rUHGFym-arDsriS6-8SJHy0fff7zNlOILp3zA-asH_E8HvixqC-T-Hse-3BhMhiQVNO3yhWjCdm3DJXmANNSS5Zi20y8sUD9JTGcUoy7wtAzIVF14Cqflr80Cr9nwB5u-o7jgNVjdxpAPGI1gWtVT" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHdUygPcKPBddcmpHM89ZXYBdPxqFcDNvky47rUHGFym-arDsriS6-8SJHy0fff7zNlOILp3zA-asH_E8HvixqC-T-Hse-3BhMhiQVNO3yhWjCdm3DJXmANNSS5Zi20y8sUD9JTGcUoy7wtAzIVF14Cqflr80Cr9nwB5u-o7jgNVjdxpAPGI1gWtVT=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div>Flowers thrive in the pure mountain air.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As for Pianosinatico, there are currently more ghosts than residents; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the population currently stands at 76.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Of these, according to info online, "24 are unmarried, 34 are married or separated, two are divorced and 16 are widowed. The majority have gone to either elementary or middle school </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and one person is illiterate."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Times seems to have stood still in this tiny hamlet 3,000 ft. above sea level, whose destiny, evidently, is to be a guardian of history.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But as I am saying farewell to 2022 in Florence and Tuscany, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">there's still the second half of the year</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> to report on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://beautifulflorence.blogspot.com/2022/12/a-farewell-to-florence-tuscany-2022.html">You will find it in Part II.</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <i>reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i> -- Rosanna</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p></div>Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-12609360263030310232021-12-31T08:21:00.038-08:002022-01-11T12:55:31.329-08:00Looking Back on Tuscany, 2021<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhBsNHfZ6TKiEwlwQ9mqi1QRb5LkoNOJFhqzIID04AJrKdJd-iHPzvAAmWru87ovFLIEUOyuZysRn2mQ6hIsNj4b2slZRGZO1RLFsvhauN5Y-1uYHtgE2hnNoiOwShwAPRROeDYajsOTE5d8yJ4y655tdtCwzN2pwMxOrCzY9ZShmMUNLmkVfcnOGSz=s765" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="698" data-original-width="765" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhBsNHfZ6TKiEwlwQ9mqi1QRb5LkoNOJFhqzIID04AJrKdJd-iHPzvAAmWru87ovFLIEUOyuZysRn2mQ6hIsNj4b2slZRGZO1RLFsvhauN5Y-1uYHtgE2hnNoiOwShwAPRROeDYajsOTE5d8yJ4y655tdtCwzN2pwMxOrCzY9ZShmMUNLmkVfcnOGSz=w400-h365" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Well, this blog is called "<i>Beautiful Florence</i> -- <i>Tuscan Living, from Rosanna's perspective</i>," so as an end of the year post, I will concentrate on memories from this year in Tuscany.</p><p style="text-align: center;">These recollections began in July, as the first half of the year Tuscany was either in the "red" or "orange" zone. Designed to contain COVID contagions, residents were not allowed to travel outside their town or city of residence, except for work, health or emergency reasons. Now, as a journalist with a press pass, I could have faked it, but chose not to. Hence, apart from press conferences in Prato and Montalcino in June, my first trip for pleasure was in July. Robert Shackelford invited me on a Harding school trip to the Casentino.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Casentino is an area of wooded hills and mountains, interspersed with a lush valley and scattered hamlets. It is also the source of the Arno River, and is also known for its authentic medieval castles. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The photo above is of Romena Castle, built on its present site in 1152 atop a previous fortification from 1008 A.D. Dante Alighieri was a guest at this castle, which belonged in the Guidi counts, and cites a village in the immediate surroundings in the <i>Divine Comedy's </i>Inferno. <i> </i>Unlike Inferno (or: Hell), it was a cool place on a hot summer's day. The castle can be visited from April 1 to October 31 for the modest price of<b> €3.</b> Obviously the owner, Niccolò Goretti de' Flamini is not interested in exploiting history for $$$ unlike Disney World.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My next trip, this time for a week in early September, was to Seccheto on the island of Elba. A small village on the sea situated between Cavoli and Fetovaia, it has been my vacation retreat for over 20 years. This year I was able to go a little later than usual as interns were not arriving in the office until at least mid-September due to the chaos generated by COVID.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To say I was bone tired when I arrived would be about right. I revived on the shore of the sea.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRsIorsrF9LahvRzRe7lWzT1XrLga8DPV2nASKXM_ReRALhtTJFUS83ZrP0VvEgxtSr4qsl8FL-tbgaHZFUUZzbY8bw3IMMa41PvtTG3cqPQ23grGrKH645ETabL5bfiycn4qybUfxgkWymA4Kho5qWQPOj70vUpm7IARS7KTsKYlduS7a0K8TJWq8=s2016" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRsIorsrF9LahvRzRe7lWzT1XrLga8DPV2nASKXM_ReRALhtTJFUS83ZrP0VvEgxtSr4qsl8FL-tbgaHZFUUZzbY8bw3IMMa41PvtTG3cqPQ23grGrKH645ETabL5bfiycn4qybUfxgkWymA4Kho5qWQPOj70vUpm7IARS7KTsKYlduS7a0K8TJWq8=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now, this looks like an ad for Acqua dell'Elba cologne but I actually took the photo with my I phone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I stayed seven nights, two of which were paid by the Italian government under the <i>bonus vacanza </i>program as a compensation to hotel owners and clients whose earnings took a nosedive thanks to the pandemic. The entire bill, after the deduction, taking into account a hearty breakfast, a full Italian dinner (mainly fish) was around €550. This included a patio outside the room with a lounger, a table and chairs (useful at lunchtime) and a drying rack. It also comprised a beach umbrella, which I promptly went down and planted on the shore just before breakfast.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhA0Y3BMOm4mkBT6FCK00eQGpNKNkO-oGGOzPWMr9onXxeJpEgshmBVsu2iZjBSSTpBJ8BT4lZRm3xi9ZlH17fI2OrSwVNz_D3JVso2lsIqXlvZUf4nf7BE-04KIi3-KLbdqd3gd0BkP8Pxe8KEpbVUwe2NO_mZwx67lyS5AUpXrrDQ05X1PiYn7_vz=s2016" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhA0Y3BMOm4mkBT6FCK00eQGpNKNkO-oGGOzPWMr9onXxeJpEgshmBVsu2iZjBSSTpBJ8BT4lZRm3xi9ZlH17fI2OrSwVNz_D3JVso2lsIqXlvZUf4nf7BE-04KIi3-KLbdqd3gd0BkP8Pxe8KEpbVUwe2NO_mZwx67lyS5AUpXrrDQ05X1PiYn7_vz=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The lone open white beach umbrella and orange chair is mine. Now you know why I was able to get the beautiful picture of the transparent water.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As the autumn was incredibly mild, and I was inspired to go the beach again, this time in Castiglioncello. which is closer to Florence, because of a bad fall.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I slipped over the edge of a stone sidewalk on my bad knee (injured in a 2008 fall), came down on that knee and my lower back went smack against the stone curb in Florence's historical center. OUCH! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRG3L8C_JQGwb7Mh5NkiGA15c-MCXySUwYVb83CArL9PnN78GERDCHr9f5Gw2jtoR8Qdao8z2r59UEtOmHCfTym_-sHju2fFl8HpwgdGZN3b1CpaCgt4LhnHZz9CFb4hACUF7vCSCIH0/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRG3L8C_JQGwb7Mh5NkiGA15c-MCXySUwYVb83CArL9PnN78GERDCHr9f5Gw2jtoR8Qdao8z2r59UEtOmHCfTym_-sHju2fFl8HpwgdGZN3b1CpaCgt4LhnHZz9CFb4hACUF7vCSCIH0/w400-h266/Rosanna%2527s+hand+%2526+porcellino.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>This happened outside the pharmacy across from the "Straw Market" under the Loggia del Mercato Nuovo. The market is best know for its "Porcellino" statue (which is actually a wild boar, not a pig), that one rubs for good luck and to return to Florence. Here, my manicured hand on the bronze snout is posing for photographer Andrea Pistolesi.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">While the Porcellino surveyed my fall, unmoved, I was in pain. This propelled me to Castiglioncello to dive into 62°- 60° Fahrenheit degree water (freezing by Italian standards, but not by the standards of beaches I've frequented on Long Island, Massachusetts and certainly not Maine, the absolute coldest) to relieve the pain. I went twice, on the 16th and the 30th of October! I was desperate, but it turned out to be a blessing as you can see below. And, yes, it was warm enough that my bathing suit dried in the soft sun light.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wearing rubber sandals because of the rocky bottom -- a must in Castiglioncello -- according to my doctor, upon contact with the crystal water my system went into thermal shock. I'm not kidding -- that's what he said. I like to think he meant that it was like applying an ice pack (although it wasn't <i>that</i> cold) to the injury. So much for pharmaceuticals, which I don't take (except when absolutely necessary). Cold water did the trick: the dip instantly alleviated the pain, especially the first time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhILp63q0g9I5MxBfIif85JBuP5383ADC6PcanhxuuUBFbVW9czoH8eX_wZcBK37LR7bblsS81RaWF1E1KCOxn22KKkRt6rWVfZGqxkS9eCeoKikF2oxWnDcTVeRgva_jNbXPs8lUbmv7H6qSrn8AscAr5oDrVFPKZ9a_qaswtdHVCEDghN_6d6jzQl=s2016" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhILp63q0g9I5MxBfIif85JBuP5383ADC6PcanhxuuUBFbVW9czoH8eX_wZcBK37LR7bblsS81RaWF1E1KCOxn22KKkRt6rWVfZGqxkS9eCeoKikF2oxWnDcTVeRgva_jNbXPs8lUbmv7H6qSrn8AscAr5oDrVFPKZ9a_qaswtdHVCEDghN_6d6jzQl=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The only other persons in the water was a man in wet suit and a grandfather and his grandson, swimming like fish.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now, my 2021 adventures in Tuscany were not limited to the sea. In early November, the weather still beautiful, thanks to my friend Helen Burroughs, we spent a day in Chianti.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We began by driving around the gorgeous countryside, filled with fall colors, around Lamole.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The we headed for lunch in a quintessential Tuscan hill town (or in this case, village): Montefioralle, above Greve. Tiny, hard to find parking, but wonderfully and authentically medieval as you can see by the photo below.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As my dear high school friend Angie would say, "this is Tuscany."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyXqt5_gEHRoL2Dh87ojgRvuglrR6i_i5P-5Ju4Q0HBdgB15LeqJWFkNVCpSi9KOV7vHEg1VSQFT2VgQU3xKB28FxQ44YV44Pm_hu7kbWCvCZGY-zI-_oWz-4HtZv_FNg9vw62MybirM_7-lGqg31MMls9s4vGZm7c7bUkH43_cSbx1dfT1yeP9PBL=s2016" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyXqt5_gEHRoL2Dh87ojgRvuglrR6i_i5P-5Ju4Q0HBdgB15LeqJWFkNVCpSi9KOV7vHEg1VSQFT2VgQU3xKB28FxQ44YV44Pm_hu7kbWCvCZGY-zI-_oWz-4HtZv_FNg9vw62MybirM_7-lGqg31MMls9s4vGZm7c7bUkH43_cSbx1dfT1yeP9PBL=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Montefioralle happens to be designated as one of the 308 loveliest villages in Italy. Who wouldn't like to live here? The places is so so small that only 79 residents call it home, and two of them are sitting outside their home on a bench as you can see.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was time for lunch, and we discovered "Alberto's Home Restaurant." I am not joking, there is an Alberto, resident no. 3 of Montefioralle. He and his partner (#4 but not introduced to us although she was the server) prepare lunch in their kitchen and bring it out to guests on their patio.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Meet owner and chef Alberto.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNcQmLN_5oVtgY2UFg1PCrpOL4jfmld1uTDV4GsUTV47i2wE9tV0XRxegx8OK_3vOzZjY7NxClOevQZGRb-62i2D1dkvO3rVJk8PpLoFzhfzZxX4hI1xTM3WicxofKyfpVYpCppD7ub1MXvL2_R7_eFW3p2Q4HNZCE2DGuyw_ug1GznxG3o7QXWUDK=s1892" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1892" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNcQmLN_5oVtgY2UFg1PCrpOL4jfmld1uTDV4GsUTV47i2wE9tV0XRxegx8OK_3vOzZjY7NxClOevQZGRb-62i2D1dkvO3rVJk8PpLoFzhfzZxX4hI1xTM3WicxofKyfpVYpCppD7ub1MXvL2_R7_eFW3p2Q4HNZCE2DGuyw_ug1GznxG3o7QXWUDK=w320-h400" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now, who wouldn't be happy in such a setting?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And the food! Genuine Tuscan country food. The menu, a surprise, that is just brought to us without choice, consisted of a wooden platter of tasty Chianti cold cuts, sweet pepper spread and homemade bread, creamy pumpkin soup with strips of crunchy bacon and croutons, and local wine in a flask made down the road</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(as you can see):</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieq97G_YTVOjdXXReJ9GQXcqDmMNrSljteno5Q55aac7a__LQzZmD1_gm_mry5cs2WxwRHCNbWguFwiNLGjvc2KIezSe_ub_Wjupw9_XX0A17UCGMss2637oIcM2hsSP5fbmTE6XT7ieEYkywIAiyj0JRz7ojbIkUbJjanoYv_BJYg1z0zA196MB0O=s2016" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieq97G_YTVOjdXXReJ9GQXcqDmMNrSljteno5Q55aac7a__LQzZmD1_gm_mry5cs2WxwRHCNbWguFwiNLGjvc2KIezSe_ub_Wjupw9_XX0A17UCGMss2637oIcM2hsSP5fbmTE6XT7ieEYkywIAiyj0JRz7ojbIkUbJjanoYv_BJYg1z0zA196MB0O=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">followed by a terracotta dish filled with Tuscan white beans in a sauce flavored by tomatoes, topped with sausages and sage, with bread in a basket. Homemade almond biscotti and Vin Santo dessert wine came next, and the meal ended with espresso coffee. The actual stovetop pot arrived along with milk, sugar and an enamel espresso cup.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAUEYZDI_qo674gE6eDCwJDIkHuJn1VTaCcKcf_e_nX_BTMxLYpTAU0NHSgLbrrLA8NieQ8g7yo0EK3Nnpqsc3u5XdB4mTBcDR-hVvtz5lMwRtMpt3xmBSejVCXjl5MuvwZidDUihVQWgnXfCu-_TdWSToX4653-2fAiSndYVDUkrfUTqW8dmLq5dW=s1597" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1597" data-original-width="1507" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAUEYZDI_qo674gE6eDCwJDIkHuJn1VTaCcKcf_e_nX_BTMxLYpTAU0NHSgLbrrLA8NieQ8g7yo0EK3Nnpqsc3u5XdB4mTBcDR-hVvtz5lMwRtMpt3xmBSejVCXjl5MuvwZidDUihVQWgnXfCu-_TdWSToX4653-2fAiSndYVDUkrfUTqW8dmLq5dW=w378-h400" width="378" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The entire tab came to <b>€25 per person </b>(and there was not even a service charge!). Truth in advertising: a home restaurant indeed, but outside only (perfect for COVID times) with an incredible vista.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As I wrote in my intro to this blog, which I opened 10 years ago (!) in 2011, after a trip to St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands, where my heart sister, Mary Louise has a vacation home, this was my intention in starting <i>Beautiful Florence.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is from my intro to the blog, which you can also access by clicking the book on the home page:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;"><i>"Back in the ‘80s, in the sunlight, the soul of Florence—which was the soul of humanity as expressed through the Renaissance—was completely visible. <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;"><i> At that time, as an artisan friend Agostino Dessi said, “Firenze era la più bella città del mondo” (Florence was the most beautiful city in the world). Sadly, over the past decades, with its adaptation to mass tourism, the soul of Florence is less apparent. Rain or shine, Beautiful Florence <b>does</b> <b>exist,</b> and you can still find it—I am here to help you look.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;"><i> I will also help you discover the Tuscan soul in the countryside, cities, villages and coast, where it still strongly evident."</i></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div>The last line, especially in this difficult moment of the pandemic, is what inspired me to look back</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> on times in Tuscany 2021. Hopefully, beautiful Tuscany will be safer to visit thanks to new rules and regulations to fight the spread of the highly contagious Omicron variant which will go into effect in </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">10 days time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">While experiencing change, Tuscany is unchanging as you can see from the view of the Chianti countryside from "Alberto's Home Restaurant" in Montefioralle, a hill town, which, despite my work, was somewhere I had never been to before in Tuscany.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjY2ZVOZKGlMAeuBr6Ioc0ZBkpSfw8yt_YGFkEylI-Gu6DzSS8VMA8jDPrApsC2VwUZ46AwJ_d9lZJOrgPnOBVH1HipkbD0Rk6zXMI5oWu8V8ray3e6y-a9jzT4PMyKxvwauS-mPX2yoEX3cpGm7WQCeenKJ2M2u5gJ59hiSsdajA9qNykjJhv__1tC=s2016" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjY2ZVOZKGlMAeuBr6Ioc0ZBkpSfw8yt_YGFkEylI-Gu6DzSS8VMA8jDPrApsC2VwUZ46AwJ_d9lZJOrgPnOBVH1HipkbD0Rk6zXMI5oWu8V8ray3e6y-a9jzT4PMyKxvwauS-mPX2yoEX3cpGm7WQCeenKJ2M2u5gJ59hiSsdajA9qNykjJhv__1tC=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Isn't that something? One of the many reasons I fell in love with region is that in some places, as in the view of the hills above, the landscape (minus the olive trees) is reminiscent of the Hudson Valley, where I grew up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This moment, too, will pass. And Tuscany will be waiting for us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <i>-- reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <i>Rosanna</i></div> <p></p>Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-167191418756934762021-12-25T10:28:00.099-08:002022-01-03T11:50:12.228-08:00Looking Back on 2021 in Florence Through Street Art<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEha3x88xo_7XAKpbZlRiyE8zJBdAFuelNL72afTZP4ZioVOMyP421rD-eOY84hnlTqUYliY-bDEtTQC-lwOol5FfBjlxQo85nR3ae6dQY_DsFafPICotDW8LuSWdLJ4zXnG6_Ye1mj7EbRQk-601qszu8rEemU8RrGTG5NoITrE7QSmOwG9PKwgXYPE=s1571" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1571" data-original-width="1498" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEha3x88xo_7XAKpbZlRiyE8zJBdAFuelNL72afTZP4ZioVOMyP421rD-eOY84hnlTqUYliY-bDEtTQC-lwOol5FfBjlxQo85nR3ae6dQY_DsFafPICotDW8LuSWdLJ4zXnG6_Ye1mj7EbRQk-601qszu8rEemU8RrGTG5NoITrE7QSmOwG9PKwgXYPE=w381-h400" width="381" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It's the Christmas season in Florence: one that is the usual shiny and bright, mirrored by the installation and decorations above on via Tornabuoni. After six months of Covid restrictions (December 2020 - May 2021), for the holidays the city was luminous, basking in light. The atmosphere was positive -- that is, until the Omicron variant hit Italy </div><div style="text-align: center;">this week.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yet, the month had started out so well. Tuscans flocked in ever-increasing numbers for the booster shot, but also flocked at markets, holiday events, Christmas villages and shopping. On December 8, Patrick Zaki, an Egyptian college student at the University of Bologna, was finally freed from pre-trial detention in Cairo on trumped-up charges of subversion (i.e. freedom of thought) thanks to support by the international community and especially in Italy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Readers of <i>Beautiful Florence </i>may remember that, reported in last December's Christmas blog, I came across a cardboard cutout Nativity scene at Villa Arrivabene created by Gruppo Donatello artists. As you can see below, "Freedom for Patrick Zaky" (sic) is written on the T-shirt of the activist, with the depiction inspired by Amnesty International's poster. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6Zw8NEpfin_1CQ3BabkWpcBdHz_hfUEMnvbCkXYTCZ0XH-5iHVt8bnyO17HnPWd7jimqCHBTX1P1mUao_gK7ejKf6vswPNarSExpFrjBlfEvoizPQ7x4xpoL3XQFdChPpby6ezlckhpcC_LHq-wkVicpGBwepkDfgRfcdqRo2Z3hE414bz2opALpD=s1075" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1075" data-original-width="953" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6Zw8NEpfin_1CQ3BabkWpcBdHz_hfUEMnvbCkXYTCZ0XH-5iHVt8bnyO17HnPWd7jimqCHBTX1P1mUao_gK7ejKf6vswPNarSExpFrjBlfEvoizPQ7x4xpoL3XQFdChPpby6ezlckhpcC_LHq-wkVicpGBwepkDfgRfcdqRo2Z3hE414bz2opALpD=w355-h400" width="355" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">So, hope was in the air. There was even hope for Dante Alighieri, who was finally freed from endless commemorative events, including historic exhibitions -- ostensibly designed to honor the poet and author of the <i>Divine Comedy</i>. In many, if not all cases, the program was meant to attract the public and sell tickets. Florence at a certain point even asked once more for Dante's remains back from Ravenna, where he died in exile. Ravenna, of course, refused, much as city fathers had in 1519, when a Tuscan delegation arrived to take what was left of Alighieri back to Florence. They found an empty sarcophagus thanks to the prompt intervention of Franciscan fathers, who had temporarily moved his bones.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibZ4MY_o2f11DjPN85nsL8f9dA5H-coGjRTFV2kWUB3dfMODDCkLsj-Bf3jjYjpZqqw5lKPalK8WadFi3jgU1N5TdDfk7BDhuHv0v_2ZWEoWBq22UazqaMramHXfO3lsZ5S_K1jd2zEUAT4gSKaP-0VKELcQ33nh_e4c94f7M3Oo2ojXGNYyv2cJlk=s2016" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibZ4MY_o2f11DjPN85nsL8f9dA5H-coGjRTFV2kWUB3dfMODDCkLsj-Bf3jjYjpZqqw5lKPalK8WadFi3jgU1N5TdDfk7BDhuHv0v_2ZWEoWBq22UazqaMramHXfO3lsZ5S_K1jd2zEUAT4gSKaP-0VKELcQ33nh_e4c94f7M3Oo2ojXGNYyv2cJlk=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div>Unlike what is depicted in the above piece of Florence street art, Dante was never arrested. He chose exile as an alternative to being burnt at the stake in Florence, a punishment for being on the wrong side of the political fence.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, until the next anniversary at least, Dante is a free citizen again.</div><div><br /></div><div>A modern-day Dante, if not in literature but equally as influential as an environmental activist is </div><div>Greta Thunberg, honored in Florence in 2021 as a Superwoman winking at the skeptical. The sticker reads "the time is now! -- put your heart into it." It, being of course, the cause to halt and even reverse climate change.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlRQ1-oY9oRiEoK95VS8ksnEQ5SZed3X5miJi3tJxtt4g94GxDx02ggBm835YGEiyH91Lf1n01gZPy3_egkYHI9SwuPskyrBaUWyP2tYHZdqJNHKj6SDmSaUYWABEdp3bLwbXKnHPvu7WOd_koHyy9YP5Gt27R9fJ_1b4eC0F1af2KHHPetJVgJxqD=s1510" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1382" data-original-width="1510" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlRQ1-oY9oRiEoK95VS8ksnEQ5SZed3X5miJi3tJxtt4g94GxDx02ggBm835YGEiyH91Lf1n01gZPy3_egkYHI9SwuPskyrBaUWyP2tYHZdqJNHKj6SDmSaUYWABEdp3bLwbXKnHPvu7WOd_koHyy9YP5Gt27R9fJ_1b4eC0F1af2KHHPetJVgJxqD=w400-h366" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Set in a secluded spot in downtown Florence, the work is framed almost in the manner of medieval street tabernacles (still visible today) where citizens would stop, pause, and pray. Greta herself would surely approve that the work -- seemingly a modern day fresco -- is brushed by oxygen-creating nature, </div><div>the branch of an olive tree.</div><div><br /></div><div>With over 50,000 new Covid cases reported in Italy on December 25 -- an all time record but with </div><div>fewer hospitalizations and deaths that period of the pandemic before the vaccine -- the times suddenly look uncertain again. What will the future hold?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjStg0ADgTnwagSeL7V_lBUlzEp9iqq_C68Nserg-9YjJZTGf35gTtdb1fjAY56NmVRh-BR2uD5l0LzQ9xD3HOKIveMnQ2h7b3TVkR5yLlzzVHlMII8SE892z1u-BafzPW5FbKtxqfitYw-k_BFdFwpKTiyQ4T_4lCMZ3r2RIUyoiKCgTno1s59Pno8=s1509" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1403" data-original-width="1509" height="373" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjStg0ADgTnwagSeL7V_lBUlzEp9iqq_C68Nserg-9YjJZTGf35gTtdb1fjAY56NmVRh-BR2uD5l0LzQ9xD3HOKIveMnQ2h7b3TVkR5yLlzzVHlMII8SE892z1u-BafzPW5FbKtxqfitYw-k_BFdFwpKTiyQ4T_4lCMZ3r2RIUyoiKCgTno1s59Pno8=w400-h373" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Times are such that one may be tempted to put a life jacket around one's heart, like this piece of street art near my office, on via Verdi. The street leads to the piazza and church Santa Croce (which also contains an empty sarcophagus and monument to Dante Alighieri, waiting for the day (over Ravenna's dead body), that the poet's remains return to Florence. For the record, the stone sign is used to disaster -- it was nearly submerged by the waters of the great flood of Florence in 1966, when the Arno burst its banks, reaching a level of 21 ft (6.7 meters) in the historical city center.</div><div><br /></div><div>One can also turn to history for solace. This is a fact that I discovered when researching a current mega-project spanning WWII to the pandemic in Florence. As it noted, the retreating Germans blew up every single bridge except Ponte Vecchio in and around Florence in the summer of 1944 to slow </div><div>the Allies' advance and liberation of Tuscany.</div><div><br /></div><div>Or so it is believed. Actually, there is another (tiny) bridge that the Germans did not manage to destroy. It is located in Mantignano, an old neighborhood just past Isolotto on Florence's left bank facing Ponte all'Indiano on the other side of the Arno. Known locally as the "Ponte dei Cazzotti" (the bridge of blows, thanks to memorable fistfights, the diminutive span over the Greve river was heroically defended by partisan resistance fighters and saved. When the soldiers of the U.S. 442nd Infantry Regiment -- a segregated and highly decorated unit comprised entirely of volunteer second generation Japanese Americans, many of whose parents were in internment camps in the U.S. for the duration of the war -- arrived, </div><div>to create the first known graffiti in the Florence metropolitan area, still visible today.</div><div><br /></div><div>Reputedly familiar with the 1943 Cary Grant film, "Destination Tokyo," the soldiers left their mark on the "Ponte dei Cazzotti": <b>Los Angeles City Limits, </b>then underneath (partially hidden by plastic), </div><div><b>Aug. '44, </b>and to the left, their I.D:</div><div>the <b>442nd </b>Regimental Combat Team (of the Infantry).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqWBTPfTgkdQk5pjfeR7sY44yoEJY-CGK5W6Wq8cfhntSXfXxj4pRT60bz8E7nRhfhjWHKFYzAQGPT3P2aoexOO--w6dy9Gl-cSuQiuepnDfhu9RPByPDlhewjwLJnqbnxRgkx97AuboVFng5f8laYH5FXzEI-WCNjDpmF0Zwceo6wBmlo5Q4KWuRh=s1712" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1419" data-original-width="1712" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqWBTPfTgkdQk5pjfeR7sY44yoEJY-CGK5W6Wq8cfhntSXfXxj4pRT60bz8E7nRhfhjWHKFYzAQGPT3P2aoexOO--w6dy9Gl-cSuQiuepnDfhu9RPByPDlhewjwLJnqbnxRgkx97AuboVFng5f8laYH5FXzEI-WCNjDpmF0Zwceo6wBmlo5Q4KWuRh=w640-h530" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>While the bridge is closed, the writing is visible to this day. I took this photo with my I phone (as all others in this blog post), in November 2021.</div><div><br /></div><div>Exile, war, flood -- Florence has seen it all and survived to eventually prosper </div><div>in the brutal ups and downs </div><div>of the cycle of life.</div><div><br /></div><div>While the pandemic resembles a roller coaster, we can take solace in the fact that feelings as well as the physical world have survived. Like this tower, the Torre di Pagliazzi</div><div>in via Sant'Elisabetta in the old city center of Florence, on the right of the below photo.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLcKR52bc7yJ9-5krYWBQypbW8Ozicxc1mYnGXnav88wuYKYpwCMEksqdf6dC283rxC-qIUplQ5hwZ341QNECCHtSiDlkLKFVmOw6hkIdA0zkaId8pPEg3e3iENpx1yGfE43i1LM9RwR4I_-_5VGVBpEHrhbWvyFFCroeYlc2giaOoRciO7rW0mCgq=s1649" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1649" data-original-width="1503" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLcKR52bc7yJ9-5krYWBQypbW8Ozicxc1mYnGXnav88wuYKYpwCMEksqdf6dC283rxC-qIUplQ5hwZ341QNECCHtSiDlkLKFVmOw6hkIdA0zkaId8pPEg3e3iENpx1yGfE43i1LM9RwR4I_-_5VGVBpEHrhbWvyFFCroeYlc2giaOoRciO7rW0mCgq=w365-h400" width="365" /></a></div><br /><div>It was constructed between the <b>6th and 7th centuries A.D. </b>on the ruins of a preexisting Roman building, either by the Longobards, a Germanic tribe, or Byzantine invaders, all of whom had dominions in modern-day Italy during that period. Look at that stone work -- now that is patience. </div><div><br /></div><div>Patience enough to withstand the trials of time -- 13 centuries worth! </div><div><br /></div><div>Featuring a holiday glow, the tower and the adjacent building now hosts a luxury hotel </div><div>and two-star Michelin restaurant.</div><div><br /></div><div>We, too, shall overcome this challenging moment.</div><div><br /></div><div><i> -- Reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Rosanna</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><p></p>Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-38008411220420227962020-12-24T06:58:00.046-08:002023-07-23T13:22:44.834-07:00A 2020 Florence Covid Christmas<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEKly__ul8pjBSib_6dKCCAeLizmL5MAa9CeOuzcrktq0QsUZZSM1xrnaw7K9yxxRbRKnWI4NM6TuTmD5eJ0kh0cW4qR327q0Ie7Q_vSgcDzszDvhYhQcB2fB3L21LN0UWIfBmsUQobBs/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1232" data-original-width="2048" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEKly__ul8pjBSib_6dKCCAeLizmL5MAa9CeOuzcrktq0QsUZZSM1xrnaw7K9yxxRbRKnWI4NM6TuTmD5eJ0kh0cW4qR327q0Ie7Q_vSgcDzszDvhYhQcB2fB3L21LN0UWIfBmsUQobBs/w640-h386/Nativity+Duomo.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's the afternoon of Christmas Eve here in Florence--and thanks to the red zone aimed to slow down the number of Coronavirus contagions--it is already as silent as the middle of the night. In Piazza Duomo, Mary and Joseph, the ox and the ass, wait patiently for Jesus to arrive, bringing hope and love. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Florence is also waiting for the arrival of the Covid-19 vaccine, slated for December 27.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As usual, the life-size Nativity scene will remain in the Cathedral square until January 6. The figures are made of terra-cotta, the same material as the dome's tiles created in the Tuscan town of Impruneta in the 15th century, during the height of the Renaissance. This was a period of humanistic and artistic rebirth after the Dark Ages, and the Black Plague, which caused the death of at least 50 million people. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Nativity scene were donated to the city of Florence in homage to the basilica's roofing by their maker, a terracotta craftsman still carrying on a centuries' old tradition in Impruneta.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Someone else is also waiting for hope to arrive, whom Florence has not forgotten.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He is Patrick Zaki, a master's degree student at the University of Bologna (Italy's oldest such institute of high learning). A native of Egypt, Zaki was arrested on February 7 (a date coinciding with the warnings of an imminent Covid epidemic in Italy) and has been held in prison in Cairo ever since.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The trumped-up charge is "subversive propaganda." Zaki's research in Bologna on women and gender studies, for which he received a scholarship, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">offended deep-rooted cultural sensibilities in his home country. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Florence's response to this is its Neighborhood 2 annual Nativity scene created by </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Gruppo Donatello artists in front of Villa Arrivabene is dedicated to Patrick Zaki.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6wcXzOmChN4tD99_nBKDr6lhXNag-Qt5DIaOCzoCuB6qUE97wz7KC65jKun5uIOsiR5CtoIgs63KlJqecFZ4XnII-Y-6iPN2S66pYqkGonKe206LAub0ABMaWFG0JM_eXU0P34-8yDc/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6wcXzOmChN4tD99_nBKDr6lhXNag-Qt5DIaOCzoCuB6qUE97wz7KC65jKun5uIOsiR5CtoIgs63KlJqecFZ4XnII-Y-6iPN2S66pYqkGonKe206LAub0ABMaWFG0JM_eXU0P34-8yDc/w480-h640/Zaki.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>I had an appointment at the vital statistics department of Villa Arrivabene on a brilliantly sunny December day and found the installation at the entrance. "Freedom for Patrick Zaky (sic)" is written on the T-shirt of the activist, with the depiction inspired by Amnesty International's poster. Facing Patrick's silhouette is a woman judge seen from the back. I don't know if this is a reference to </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the subject of Patrick's thesis work in Bologna, but it is known to have irritated Egyptian authorities, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and probably led to his detention.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG42djSXU-MiutlXihyppbScsZILHYQAcSnqvBiuyudb_Q6g2xv3Cv7oQ7uDaz1lYnGn7yhgeWg9xEmV0Xo_Nk6NMXgfgtkKAdMaTgstn878YMyRejIE08LguInJuwE9eOrpDGHFZaRms/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG42djSXU-MiutlXihyppbScsZILHYQAcSnqvBiuyudb_Q6g2xv3Cv7oQ7uDaz1lYnGn7yhgeWg9xEmV0Xo_Nk6NMXgfgtkKAdMaTgstn878YMyRejIE08LguInJuwE9eOrpDGHFZaRms/w640-h480/Villa+Arrivabene.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />The members of Gruppo Donatello are located in and around piazzale Donatello and via degli Artisti, a time-honored location for artist studios in Florence since the late 1800s. The Villa Arrivabene nativity is also populated with portrayals of local residents and protagonists of the Coronavirus health emergency. A frontline doctor (among those slated to be vaccinated first) can be glimpsed in back of a photojournalist. The entire scene is so life-like that it's easy to mistake an actual person in the gray down coat to the left as one of the cutouts. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The installation gave me a feeling of suspended reality, frozen in time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">With 2021 on the horizon, older and wiser with lessons imparted by lockdown (or arrest),</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we would like to come to life again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Christmas hope is freedom once more for all of us...and Patrick Zaki.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span> </span>Reporting live from <i>Beautiful Florence</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i> -- Rosanna</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><p></p>Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-14115255728934769522019-12-25T02:05:00.000-08:002019-12-25T11:32:47.979-08:00Christmas Scenes in Florence, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Visitors to Florence at Christmastime are used to seeing a tree situated between the<br />
Cathedral with its neo-Gothic marble facade and the octagonal Romanesque Baptistery.<br />
The 50 ft. (15 meter) fir tree was donated to the city of Florence by the town of Moena in the<br />
Trentino province in the Dolomites, the Italian Alps. Moena is also known locally as where the Fiorentina soccer team practices during the summertime at a minimum altitude of 3,000 ft.<br />
Florence's traditional Christmas tree is decorated with hundreds of glowing LEDs, glass ornaments and holiday red <i>gigli, </i>stylized lilies, Florence's coat-of-arms, which actually derive from wild irises that grow spontaneously in the area.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKqhkDeNDfuqPyIclHKh5OVO901UchTva0KNkXrsKVlHhd8Iyt5CKFXDCDz0LG4Yiqw3ZIi-uWGIlyi0J2TJT3HAK6GW51FI6x6u6-2q6SesdYfUEJOdYw8iwH3j_Hd0uXwOXm6SPuYKQ/s1600/presepio.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKqhkDeNDfuqPyIclHKh5OVO901UchTva0KNkXrsKVlHhd8Iyt5CKFXDCDz0LG4Yiqw3ZIi-uWGIlyi0J2TJT3HAK6GW51FI6x6u6-2q6SesdYfUEJOdYw8iwH3j_Hd0uXwOXm6SPuYKQ/s640/presepio.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
To the left of the first photo, the gentle reader will see the top of the city's <i>presepio,</i> or Nativity scene. Below the wooden roof of the stall, figures are made of terracotta in the local tradition by the artisans of Impruneta, who are specialized in this craft. Their ancestors supplied the terracotta tiles used in the Cathedral's iconic dome or Cupola,<br />
created by Brunelleschi in the 15th century.<br />
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Obviously, at midnight on Christmas Eve, Baby Jesus arrives in the manger; on January 6, the feast of the Epiphany, Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, the donkey and the ox in terracotta are substituted by<br />
living, breathing humans and animals, who await the Three Kings (Re Magi), who arrive bearing gifts in a colorful pageant.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJV2P0sUh6RhMC6uKmFx4i0Y1GTjwAmrdeRIz10sxOBQgs10UKLHRiKTT0Y0Wi13NnkTMUgQgGRcoNOFcjQUGLFNRImD2FNdhT4KRgx91ATNaPDSauDfEgy5FaTzma6t0FTVDRJ9SYanQ/s1600/+Domenico+Bianchi+%25C2%25A9NicolaNeri-04+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1339" data-original-width="1513" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJV2P0sUh6RhMC6uKmFx4i0Y1GTjwAmrdeRIz10sxOBQgs10UKLHRiKTT0Y0Wi13NnkTMUgQgGRcoNOFcjQUGLFNRImD2FNdhT4KRgx91ATNaPDSauDfEgy5FaTzma6t0FTVDRJ9SYanQ/s640/+Domenico+Bianchi+%25C2%25A9NicolaNeri-04+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Well, this year, Florence also hosts "Three Modern Trees" as installations across the city, in conjunction with the Novecento Museum of 20th and 21st Century Art. The trio can be viewed, like the one in piazza Duomo, through January 6.<br />
The most traditional one, (above) surrounded by the Renaissance arches of<br />
piazza Santissima Annunizata, is by Domenico Bianchi. As the theme of Christmas lights throughout Florence is the 50th anniversary of the moon landing,<br />
the artist used symbols to create a movement to evoke<br />
the connection between space and time,<br />
united in the cosmos. <span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><br />
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The most unconventional, yet striking tree, is located in piazza della Repubblica. Its author is Michelangelo Pistoletto, who uses it to illustrate his current artistic project "Terzo Paradiso"<br />
(Third Paradise) to inspire and illuminate contemporary society,<br />
for which he redesigned the eternity symbol (a horizontal number 8) to include three circles, not one. The outer circles represent, respectively,<br />
the natural world and the modern, man-made world of artifice.<br />
The central, larger circle, is meant to embody the union of the two opposites which create healing and balance in a sort of New Age and utopian garden sanctuary necessary to achieve if<br />
the planet is to survive.<br />
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Its location is symbolic as well -- the medieval ghetto and slum-like medieval dwellings and market crowding the space, originally the location of the ancient Roman forum, were demolished in the 19th century to create Piazza della Repubblica. An inscription above the arch reads "The Ancient Center of the City/From Centuries-Old Squalor/Brought to New Life.<br />
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I would imagine that the artist had this in mind when presenting his futurist tree to Florence.<br />
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Then, there is Mimmo Paladino tree in piazza Santa Maria Novella, standing before the Romanesque splendor of the church of the same name as a sort of bridge to the Novecento Museum of 20th and 21st Century Art directly across from it, located in a Renaissance building.<br />
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Paladino created a cone of light filled with numbers that switch on and off in a sequence,<br />
also playfully alluding to the the game of Bingo, which is a popular pastime among Italians<br />
after gargantuan holiday meals.<br />
A little lightness after the heaviness; perhaps this also inspired Paladino. Numbers are symbolic as well, but one cannot enter the artist's mind to understand his reasoning,<br />
so let's leave it at that...<br />
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Paladino's tree does, however, have a beautiful, shooting star, on top.<br />
Maybe we are all supposed look higher.<br />
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Buon Natale/Merry Christmas<br />
to you and yours!<br />
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<i>reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i></div>
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<i> -- Rosanna</i></div>
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</style>Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-81764920589594058932018-12-22T07:55:00.007-08:002021-09-29T03:21:58.002-07:00A Florence Chocolate Christmas <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This jolly man looks like one of Santa's helpers, and he actually is.</div>
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He is Leonardo Vestri, member of the third generation of premier chocolate makers in Tuscany,</div>
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While his family works in Arezzo, Leonardo has a shop in Florence on Borgo degli Albizi. </div>
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He is holding one of his signature holiday specialties: a <i>panettone, </i>an Italian Christmas bread which normally contains candied fruit and raisins. This, however, is not</div>
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your average <i>panettone: </i>it is made with natural starter, and once hot out of the oven behind the shop's counter and cooled, is hand-glazed with dark chocolate and chopped hazelnuts.</div>
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As faithful <i>Beautiful Florence </i>blog photographer Kayla Smith and I were to the discover,</div>
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one can personalized a gift <i>panettone</i> by selecting it according to glaze: milk or dark chocolate with hazelnuts, milk chocolate with pistachios, dark or milk chocolate topped by almond slivers.</div>
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The same choice is offered for <i>pandoro</i> (pictured top left in the above photo), a tall, spongy yeast Italian Christmas cake with origins in Verona, the town of Romeo and Juliet.</div>
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One of the reasons the chocolate is so good is that Leonardo and his father Daniele are</div>
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chocolate connoisseurs. Daniele, based in a city, Arezzo, known for frescoes by Piero della Francesca, owns and oversees a cocoa plantation in San Domingo which furnishes<br />
the basic ingredient,<br />
going there at least twice a year.</div>
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Aren't these Vestri chocolate truffles to die for? You are right: they come in <i>gianduia </i>(a chocolate hazelnut base) instead of the normal dark chocolate; additionally, are coated in</div>
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chopped hazelnuts.</div>
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Fans of supermarket Nutella (commercial chocolate-hazelnut spread), I dare you to try one </div>
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and taste the difference.</div>
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Does Leonardo ever get tired of chocolate? </div>
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"I always eat it - who doesn't not like chocolate?." he answered.</div>
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"Besides, I have to taste, taste, taste...the palate is part of the recipe."</div>
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I inquired what are the most popular Christmas gifts items in his chocolate shop.</div>
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It turns out to be boxed chocolates, which come in endless choices </div>
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featuring 100% natural ingredients.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDvW1GaGlz04p_gXMAoHBSk2EwtScWCv3gap5BRtR_6iohbL_1SmIv03zAP36JW-Khh5CXpXRt752EcHpZ3nUU1INdWfls-pnUAaZUuAkwBpjs_2qhIl-JhMizHRxMpTmFquT4Fg7mFdE/s1600/11.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1115" data-original-width="1600" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDvW1GaGlz04p_gXMAoHBSk2EwtScWCv3gap5BRtR_6iohbL_1SmIv03zAP36JW-Khh5CXpXRt752EcHpZ3nUU1INdWfls-pnUAaZUuAkwBpjs_2qhIl-JhMizHRxMpTmFquT4Fg7mFdE/s400/11.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I admit, Italians know how to gift wrap better than anyone else.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I learned this at my own Italian mother's knee </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in the United States.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Of course she could cook ... and her gifts under the tree were packaged<br />
as if they were works of art.<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5LaKm0jdVNGAQaZ_wRB-MYZBk9obQdsMxTkl_4dJx9i9Ep0-B1plF-gyoDE3nb_Upblng-WDD-OS-eLnswuhj_U8k04aqNKBjS7atjTGQ2iFY3bnI7Rc0_H-_oXeIK3FbZimK0IbA48/s1600/5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1143" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5LaKm0jdVNGAQaZ_wRB-MYZBk9obQdsMxTkl_4dJx9i9Ep0-B1plF-gyoDE3nb_Upblng-WDD-OS-eLnswuhj_U8k04aqNKBjS7atjTGQ2iFY3bnI7Rc0_H-_oXeIK3FbZimK0IbA48/s640/5.JPG" width="456" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just look at these chocolate confections in gold foil </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
or in boxes that look like modern paintings...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But Vestri's delights don't end there.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This is the place for the best hot chocolate in Florence:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
thick, pure melted chocolate -- nothing else -- with an optional</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
sprinkling of crushed hot pepper flakes or cinnamon.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNVjdRv0dmJr9LAX1rDAOuXu7Pi_ToYG_bcNMOYXTAoDegL34sXI5fn2kt2FytumH9wI0FOgQvX94g8iEA7_njsApISUR56GfTIjaNT3PZtj2mub9hXTHeuy_Oq7FUjfkSxGHwWvGeLE/s1600/3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1102" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNVjdRv0dmJr9LAX1rDAOuXu7Pi_ToYG_bcNMOYXTAoDegL34sXI5fn2kt2FytumH9wI0FOgQvX94g8iEA7_njsApISUR56GfTIjaNT3PZtj2mub9hXTHeuy_Oq7FUjfkSxGHwWvGeLE/s400/3.JPG" width="275" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What is the secret behind its sheer chocolatey goodness?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This state-of-the-art hot chocolate is keep warm and stirred continuously in</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a brass container with a thermostat and a sprout to measure out the just right amount.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLAb_sED7BQeJjI6eKZWxOk14AuA8mu3AWY5pNXUY8OnXhxbyxQLtjSX3c_Imn1ydQsw9juUge0sxwa7DHuDWGWC5a0ZzfzIn6cwzO8GhcZdWY1BnWHb_NKveJYA5hJDajlE0fF1idOs/s1600/9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1059" data-original-width="1600" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLAb_sED7BQeJjI6eKZWxOk14AuA8mu3AWY5pNXUY8OnXhxbyxQLtjSX3c_Imn1ydQsw9juUge0sxwa7DHuDWGWC5a0ZzfzIn6cwzO8GhcZdWY1BnWHb_NKveJYA5hJDajlE0fF1idOs/s640/9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"I don't have to have to add potato starch or other thickeners," says Leonardo, "because the mixture is continuously amalgamated, bringing it to </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and keeping it at </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the perfect denseness."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And even better, Vestri sells his own packaged hot chocolate.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The perfect gift, along with everything else in the shop</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(to the left in the below photo, which was taken on a table</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in the patio just outside Leonardo's intimate chocolate paradise).</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjz1iVo0FJvigYpIpuxUPk7gTte8ediEr_XIWZfglBk3VtQwepJ3FhI_IPgOzCJXpqQsZydLeB0oBq7Vftq1YJTB4Sq7duFmMiVdzh3e1dUNsWaip1heOuxCbYINSyqk-M2lr9VL_zHy8/s1600/13.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="904" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjz1iVo0FJvigYpIpuxUPk7gTte8ediEr_XIWZfglBk3VtQwepJ3FhI_IPgOzCJXpqQsZydLeB0oBq7Vftq1YJTB4Sq7duFmMiVdzh3e1dUNsWaip1heOuxCbYINSyqk-M2lr9VL_zHy8/s640/13.JPG" width="360" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just add hot milk and stir to make a<br />
fabulous cup<br />
of Italian artisanal hot chocolate.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
So, have yourself a merry, chocolate Christmas!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> -- Rosanna </i><br />
<i> & Kayla Smith</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i>reporting live from</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Beautiful Florence</i></div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-52159298052818744702017-12-24T08:28:00.000-08:002017-12-24T22:57:01.781-08:00A Florence 2017 Christmas Card<div style="text-align: center;">
What is this in the photo below? the gentle reader may ask. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is <i>risotto </i>which was made before our eyes -- intern Deanna Carbone and mine -- at the launch of a Florence hotel this past November and served to guests. As the event was titled</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Gold," (in English, no less), </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the <i>risotto</i> came topped with edible gold leaf, which marked the first time I had heard of such a thing.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMk710NjYJda99G0lZpsNmQwcdhUEPKSHqwOLycUpuFCoXvKuLBPw4XfJtXlZ6jqKidAjHcUZ3g-woS-und53fAosnvkDR2kRJ1sbd-6X77wb972W-lD_ciODAHJTIKQFgUi5dzqSKyTE/s1600/unnamed+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMk710NjYJda99G0lZpsNmQwcdhUEPKSHqwOLycUpuFCoXvKuLBPw4XfJtXlZ6jqKidAjHcUZ3g-woS-und53fAosnvkDR2kRJ1sbd-6X77wb972W-lD_ciODAHJTIKQFgUi5dzqSKyTE/s640/unnamed+copy.jpg" width="516" /></a></div>
Well, in the spirit of the Christmas season, I would like to share what the Dalai Lama said at a meeting of Florence's Festival of Religions at the Mandela Forum earlier this year.<br />
<br />
Much to my relief (due to someone I know who constantly parrots the phrase), the Dalai Lama did not say "Tibetan Buddhism," even once. His Holiness spoke exclusively of<br />
all-inclusive values.<br />
<br />
"We must transmit forgiveness and tolerance," he said.<br />
"Although everyone has a right to a happy life and self realization,<br />
I have seen so much suffering and violence.<br />
It would be helpful to remember that we are all human beings in order to maintain peace.<br />
War is only mobilized violence.<br />
There is no freedom without peace."<br />
<br />
"God gave us different religions to take into account different types of people.<br />
There are no Muslim terrorists -- there are only terrorists.<br />
Terrorists do no adhere to any religion."<br />
<br />
"Can people of all religions live together and happily?<br />
<b>A 1,000 times yes!"</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
"To stop suffering, we need to go deeper. We are all the same.<br />
Peace comes from within.<br />
We must work towards universal love."<br />
<br />
Now, that's true gold.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Buon Natale </i>from<br />
<i> Beautiful Florence</i><br />
<i> -- Rosanna</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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</div>
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</div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-29067965857751316962017-08-20T00:44:00.006-07:002021-09-23T08:07:44.298-07:00Florence Summer Sales & Armani<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tCrGABEHQz5vwJJe1elOYlrQTe9RhXXaRvI4G_OCG7D4mq8V-hFwDvuyhH3BQuqzXg1fEa5HGnBd96-oJUcB-Va_7jJwBxA4BrrYE69c6I3rKN_F1j28nb9DSQm4GlVzaILCG82hDrk/s1600/Intent+bird.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="1001" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tCrGABEHQz5vwJJe1elOYlrQTe9RhXXaRvI4G_OCG7D4mq8V-hFwDvuyhH3BQuqzXg1fEa5HGnBd96-oJUcB-Va_7jJwBxA4BrrYE69c6I3rKN_F1j28nb9DSQm4GlVzaILCG82hDrk/s640/Intent+bird.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Well, summer sales in Florence continue through September 8, and it is clear that this pigeon is window shopping at the Armani boutique near Piazza della Repubblica.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He (I assume the bird is male given that the point of attraction is a pair of men's shoes)<br />
shares my taste.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I really can't afford designer clothes but if I could I would choose Armani.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
I am the lucky owner of two Armani pillows given as a gift to</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
journalists when one of his boutiques opened on or close to via Tornabuoni.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I saw Giorgio at the inauguration and remembered feeling worried about his</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
excessive tan -- his face was beginning to resemble leather.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
I <i>love </i>Armani fashion.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I also purchased a pair of gorgeous cream colored linen Emporio Armani pants </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in the Galluzzo market. As my heart sister, Mary Louise, would say,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"the hand" (I am the daughter of an Italian tailor) reached out and touched</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the fabric of items on a rack. "The hand" felt a find and began to shake. <i>Voilà! </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I became the proud owner of another Armani for only €30!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2QRGFtYO8DL_FnecTn-w8JRfDoecivPNfYVZDxduVRVIh0baaQnDF_bodjGDqpPjQa8wfLdFYrB_j-2CIzWQz5I6VwoXd1qt-bXA9hFdbTj5tagCt85FQ4W9AdS-njxa2fXcN7rXJFQ/s1600/Distracted+bird+copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2QRGFtYO8DL_FnecTn-w8JRfDoecivPNfYVZDxduVRVIh0baaQnDF_bodjGDqpPjQa8wfLdFYrB_j-2CIzWQz5I6VwoXd1qt-bXA9hFdbTj5tagCt85FQ4W9AdS-njxa2fXcN7rXJFQ/s400/Distracted+bird+copy.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Back in downtown Florence, after a few minutes, the bird's attention towards the shoes began to wane. Maybe even the sales prices was too steep, or that he simply realized, being pigeon-toed,<br />
the pair wouldn't fit.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But there still is plenty of sales shopping for visitors and residents alike throughout Florence.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Not nearly as elegant as Armani, but available.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Handy if you are heading to the beach, as I am tomorrow.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But I am not a size 6.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGtGxspHEWPCjXHH-jKCkx4xucxPwI0s57QAeesBIfoDF9MgO4ikGKTdT54qCTestz28n4pz8nFgX5hFtTO6l9Rsqe77BXedn0VOE1ciSGm90tVuELKlt0YQTN5tXtBlfD-KtQISX2Ac/s1600/discounted+bikini.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="935" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGtGxspHEWPCjXHH-jKCkx4xucxPwI0s57QAeesBIfoDF9MgO4ikGKTdT54qCTestz28n4pz8nFgX5hFtTO6l9Rsqe77BXedn0VOE1ciSGm90tVuELKlt0YQTN5tXtBlfD-KtQISX2Ac/s400/discounted+bikini.JPG" width="233" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But this is a sales shoe story. One of my interns purchased a pair of sandals at a shop between</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Piazza della Repubblica and Ponte Vecchio.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
On the surface, the sandals appeared to be a good buy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_8D3Xqtiu-mOHhXAzrkkMcExRZDVfuGedjz2jgp_WkcDDZCaC9i2VdtAxONzbJOgaL2q9f1UdN6QwWQuXxcHoABZO-yH2Q4Uun5PUoT5huTjO8KXkwMiz8g0Ur2vscX-_dSBuGwoDgGI/s1600/Natalia%2527s+shoes.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_8D3Xqtiu-mOHhXAzrkkMcExRZDVfuGedjz2jgp_WkcDDZCaC9i2VdtAxONzbJOgaL2q9f1UdN6QwWQuXxcHoABZO-yH2Q4Uun5PUoT5huTjO8KXkwMiz8g0Ur2vscX-_dSBuGwoDgGI/s400/Natalia%2527s+shoes.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Nice, huh?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But always look beyond the surface. <br />
And regarding sales in Florence, remember to keep your receipt.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sales time (January-February, July - early September) is probably the only time that the</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
sales staff or proprietor will allow you to make a return. <br />
Why? <br />
Because sales periods in Italy are regulated by law.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
After less than a week of wear, the soles of Natalia's shoes were cracked as the ancient Florentine pavement they are laying on. Unwearable because they were falling apart, Natalia brought the sandals back to the store, which, in the absence of a sales receipt, refused<br />
to reimburse her money or make an exchange.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Given the fact that the model was still in the window,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I would suggest calling the <i>vigili urbani </i>(the local city police squad) if you find yourself in a similar situation.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"Do you know a cobbler?" Natalia asked me. I accompanied her to</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
one located on via Matteo Palmieri, right behind our office on Borgo degli Albizi.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
His look of disgust says it all.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What's to be done?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The shoemaker simply made the sign of the cross, as </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
an Italian priest would at a funeral.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The shoes were as dead as the time-honored practice of asking for a discount </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
("lo sconto") at his repair business, as stated by the notice behind him</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
("deceduto").</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
End of story -- almost.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Discounts, at least during sales periods, are still alive and well in</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Florence. You simply need to know where to go.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The pigeon and I do. Today it's only window shopping at Armani.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tomorrow, who knows?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
--<i>Rosanna</i></div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-84254599013705966552017-03-07T13:23:00.004-08:002023-07-18T05:34:54.051-07:00From A Journalist in Florence: A Mentor Tribute on International Women's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
In just over an hour, it will be International Women's Day in Italy.<br />
In honor of my mentor in a three-month stint in a news reporting class,<br />
among the facts that I will cover in this post is how blossoming mimosa<br />
(pictured above) came to be the symbol of the <i>Festa della Donna </i>in Italy.<br />
Today, everybody -- loved ones, even proprietors of cafés and stationary shops -- gift women with a sprig of soft-scented mimosa on <b>March 8.</b><br />
<br />
The custom can be traced to WWII Italy when Fascist police executed two sisters at the forefront of the Resistance movement. At their funeral, dozens of female supporters came and placed mimosa on their graves. It was probably late February or early March when the shrub is in bloom.<br />
<br />
Well, I mentioned that this post was about me learning to report hard news.<br />
A strange topic as everyone knows I am a wimp -- I love culture, non-profits and poetic causes, although I can really write about anything except sports. And violence, except for rare cases.<br />
<br />
Although I attended college in Boston, I grew up on the banks of the<br />
Hudson Valley north of New York. The city, that is. <br />
Idyllic. Very peaceful, although I was raised in Highland Falls, next to that bastion of militarism: West Point. My late father was an Italian tailor at the military academy.<br />
<br />
One year, while home I decided to cross-register and take the aforementioned news journalism course at Marist College in Poughkeepsie, New York. My family was living in New Windsor at the time.<br />
<br />
A tiny women, a professional journalist on maternity leave, taught the class.<br />
I remember her bangs and eye makeup that made her vaguely resemble Cleopatra.<br />
She wielded a red pen, which she used copiously on our assignments.<br />
<br />
A chain smoker, she gave the impression of being in perpetual motion, of restlessness, even when she was still. The trademark of a hard-bitten news writer.<br />
<br />
Thirty-five years later I found her photo on Facebook.<br />
Mimi Mcandrew has not changed all that much.<br />
<br />
As one of her Facebook friends wrote, "a great picture of a great journalist."<br />
I have already thanked her in a preface to one of my books for teaching me to write a lede,<br />
that crucial first sentence or two which sums up the article, which, then,<br />
also included incisiveness. Now, the requirement -- a tall order -- is <b>punch.</b><br />
<i>Bisogna spaccare, </i>as the Italians would say. Leave an indelible impression.<br />
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Like Mimi herself.<br />
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<br />
As a final assignment, Mimi had Marist College stage a mock disaster: students taken hostage, frightened parents (with weirdly-spelled names, Laurence instead of Lawrence,<br />
I got it right), police, negotiations, the works. The class was divided into teams, for coverage and live reporting and surprisingly I was asked to head one of them. After all, I was from another school. Even more surprisingly, my team came in second out of five,<br />
with Marist's star reporter's group first.<br />
As I had no ambition to continue in the field of hard news, I perceived it a great honor.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to early 2016, when the Florence newsroom of <i>La Repubblica</i> asks me to write a story about the gruesome Ashley Olsen murder in Florence. I thought the article would be posted in my (normally speaking) arts and leisure column in English called <i>Day </i>on the news site<i>.</i><br />
<br />
"I don't do this type of piece," was my mildly irritated response, "it was bad enough when I anchored the broadcast for BBC World Service after the bomb blast at the Uffizi." <br />
<br />
But if you are a true journalist you know that obedience to the editor<br />
(or in this case, as she was away for the week, the editor's standby) is a given.<br />
The only question you can ask is: "when do you need it by?"<br />
And we all know, if we miss a deadline, it is because we are dead.<br />
<br />
I finished that article in just under an hour and half, reading the facts in Italian<br />
and expressing in English.<br />
I briefly thought of Mimi when composing the lead. "Don't ever, <i>ever </i>start with a question,<br />
unless the event is exceptional," she taught us.<br />
I took a deep breath and wrote: "Who killed Ashley Olsen?" and begged forgiveness.<br />
The rest came on automatic pilot also thanks to the lessons I had learned.<br />
The article <a href="http://firenze.repubblica.it/cronaca/2016/01/11/news/the_latest_on_the_ashley_olsen_murder_case-131042327/">here.</a><br />
<br />
With the beginnings of tremendous back pain, which lasted all week, I left the office<br />
after sending the story.<br />
I received a text message from the editor in chief on the bus thanking me. When I arrived at my Florence home, the web editor's assistant in charge sent me a concise email:<br />
"Rosanna, you are in national coverage."<br />
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<i>Oh my God, </i>directly in English, was the email I shot back.<br />
<br />
The story was on the <i>national </i>web site of <i>Repubblica </i>along with the Italian articles on the murder.<br />
A first.<br />
And the way it was posted, it seemed I had written all the pieces, English and Italian.<br />
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<br />
This <i>delirio</i> (I can think of no other word in either language) continued for five days,<br />
including coverage of the <a href="http://firenze.repubblica.it/cronaca/2016/01/14/news/ashley_olsen_murder_suspect_arrested-131233239/">arrest</a><br />
<a href="http://firenze.repubblica.it/cronaca/2016/01/14/news/ashley_olsen_murder_suspect_arrested-131233239/">of the alleged murderer </a>and the <a href="http://firenze.repubblica.it/cronaca/2016/01/15/news/ashley_olsen_s_funeral_case_developments-131342661/">funeral.</a><br />
<br />
Throughout, I felt I was walking a tightrope strung between two skyscrapers,<br />
balancing two languages. <br />
I had to remain perfectly calm although I could hear noise -- a roar -- below me. <br />
On the third day of the case,<br />
Repubblica's arch rival <i>Corriere Fiorentino -- </i>the local newsroom of the <i>Corriere della Sera -- </i>started running English translations. The heat was on. I began to sweat, not perspire<br />
as ladies are alleged to do.<br />
<br />
Plus, what slowed down me down was the legal terminology -- in both Italian and in English. <br />
A <i>procuratore</i>? Who the hell is that? A district attorney? What is a district attorney? And so on.<br />
<br />
I had never <i>ever </i>studied or done the courthouse beat. And I couldn't make a mistake. <br />
I would fall off the tightrope, although I knew that <i>Repubblica </i>journalists<br />
would launch a safety net.<br />
<br />
I didn't need it.<br />
<br />
<b>Thank you, Mimi.</b><br />
<br />
Happy Women's Day.<br />
<br />
<i>reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i><br />
<i> --Rosanna</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-21987888495570877482016-12-31T14:22:00.003-08:002023-05-26T05:53:52.843-07:00The Norcia Earthquake & Siena: Goodby to 2016 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvCSd3Lur-ij3QxRYIne2bY05kyW0ldkX2DLF1yVV0EMYUyFLe2Ylfu2bnVZ1gfwMXKO_MY7oX-Ad6b-sELpcqmC3butP8_O3SilbJgB1Umbu1qYMUHDHFmedf7qMOgtu1WvWUbqenkk/s1600/IMG_2578.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvCSd3Lur-ij3QxRYIne2bY05kyW0ldkX2DLF1yVV0EMYUyFLe2Ylfu2bnVZ1gfwMXKO_MY7oX-Ad6b-sELpcqmC3butP8_O3SilbJgB1Umbu1qYMUHDHFmedf7qMOgtu1WvWUbqenkk/s640/IMG_2578.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This gilded wooden Madonna, originally found in the Cathedral of Santa Maria Argentea in Norcia, is currently on display in a art show divided between Siena's Cathedral crypt and Santa Maria della Scala. The statue is part of the <i>Bellezza Ferita </i>(Wounded Beauty) exhibition of artworks rescued in the October 30, 2016 earthquake that devastated<br />
a town in Umbria.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Originally part of an Assumption, in this setting she is raising her eyes upward, not to heaven, but to the semi-destroyed church from she was rescued. Arms flung outwards, Mary seems to be supplicating help and mercy for Norcia.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVVSpyX4s507vpQH3oJaVJu3d_LhpaJqfN0CIcPT5ucq0AxTq8qNvSh3hc9gxkL9KcVEpuBcMcyeOO9ZKRGfpM9GnCIVbtlQQ2c-S2vlAqH4-nLofB4IqRHP8x5TO39tY-oLuQeru20pI/s1600/Norcia-Chiesa+S.+Maria+Argentea_Deisy+Valli+.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVVSpyX4s507vpQH3oJaVJu3d_LhpaJqfN0CIcPT5ucq0AxTq8qNvSh3hc9gxkL9KcVEpuBcMcyeOO9ZKRGfpM9GnCIVbtlQQ2c-S2vlAqH4-nLofB4IqRHP8x5TO39tY-oLuQeru20pI/s640/Norcia-Chiesa+S.+Maria+Argentea_Deisy+Valli+.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
The Cathedral of Santa Maria Argentea in Norcia,<br />
(above), was originally built in the 3rd century A.D. on the site of a Rome temple dedicated to Athena in her guise of the goddess of good fortune, with the "argentea" denoting one of her attributes:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a "shining" goddess. The ancient church, which embraced Christianity but preserved the memory of Athena in its official name, was restructured in the 11th century in the Romanesque style, torn down in the 16th century and was rebuilt between the 16th and 18th centuries in what is been variously described as Renaissance (mirroring when it was begun) and<br />
Neoclassical (reflecting when it was finished). <br />
<br />
One can only hope that, seeing what is left of Santa Maria Argentea, that it will rise again from the rubble, along with rest of Norcia.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF26IePwNmJ2FFT_crcA7z7OKyOFHa3UU7zh1vj3eGO_uzqDfzdO7WrUP5IQOJwEDUTiZnLvZNsvhXdSft-AoIGihtQk-gvglLeEM8PGFwGYf3hOMRsR8sD4UCAvGEosNj3UJ0XwGy93E/s1600/Recupero+Opere+Chiesa+San+Pellegrino_fotoVVFF+1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF26IePwNmJ2FFT_crcA7z7OKyOFHa3UU7zh1vj3eGO_uzqDfzdO7WrUP5IQOJwEDUTiZnLvZNsvhXdSft-AoIGihtQk-gvglLeEM8PGFwGYf3hOMRsR8sD4UCAvGEosNj3UJ0XwGy93E/s640/Recupero+Opere+Chiesa+San+Pellegrino_fotoVVFF+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
I covered the 1993 Uffizi bomb blast for BBC World Service, the result of an explosive set off in by the Mafia, killing five people, including an infant carried out lifeless by a fireman. Looking at this image at the exhibition, which shows another fireman carrying out a Christ child sculpture from the church of San Pellegrino in Norcia, I couldn't help being reminded of another tragedy,<br />
which damaged downtown Florence.<br />
<br />
The panels already brought to safety and leaning on wall depict St. Benedict and his sister, St. Scholastica.<br />
<br />
Both are exhibited, so that visitors can figuratively touch the cultural identity of the<br />
earthquake area, and contribute to its rebirth, along with that of Siena. The Tuscan city is financially troubled due to the near collapse of its signature bank, the Monte dei Paschi di Siena, founded before Colombus discovered America, in 1472!<br />
<br />
For centuries, Santa Maria della Scala, located directly across from the steps of Siena's Cathedral, gave rest and shelter to pilgrims walking the via Francigena to Rome. It is a fitting place to host <i>Bellezza Ferita.</i><br />
<br />
It is the wish of <i>Beautiful Florence's </i>less than faithful blogger on this New Year's Eve,<br />
that humanity absorb the heartbreaking scenarios that 2016 unfolded and<br />
commence 2017 with hope, looking forward to<br />
rejuvenation and reconstruction,<br />
built on the<br />
cornerstone of true<br />
fraternity & sisterhood.<br />
<br />
Buon Anno from<br />
<i>Beautiful Florence</i><br />
<i> -- Rosanna</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-76132142356610070592016-06-02T08:36:00.000-07:002016-06-03T03:57:54.369-07:00Scaperia's 'Infiorata' Flower Festival<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMPL13QUym3CRZOdXQ9ZLXvgbpSsbjHZGu9czFLm6ZTUb_900QyNjmPchyphenhyphenzBJpO5YlpYTDRaIb8CZVpx_ZxsaqcqkYLwYS3tvqMYzsSi1n_R0yP3RajUvtcero3eqHkS_Xpgqc6LGYBE/s1600/IMG_A+2283.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMPL13QUym3CRZOdXQ9ZLXvgbpSsbjHZGu9czFLm6ZTUb_900QyNjmPchyphenhyphenzBJpO5YlpYTDRaIb8CZVpx_ZxsaqcqkYLwYS3tvqMYzsSi1n_R0yP3RajUvtcero3eqHkS_Xpgqc6LGYBE/s640/IMG_A+2283.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A well-known Italian song has as its theme, "to make anything, you only need a flower"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(<i>per fare tutto ci vuole un fiore</i>).</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
The lyrics of this children's song comes alive every year in Scarperia, a village north of Florence in the Mugello valley, which hosts a flower-painting festival, the "Infiorata," the last weekend in May.<br />
At the base of the mountain pass leading to Romagna, Scaperia is one of the last towns in the province of Florence.<br />
Here, residents color up the main streets and celebrate their community.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Frugal Tuscans are known for not throwing away anything, and reutilizing whenever possible. This includes stale bread which is the basis of their signature soups <i>pappa al pomodoro a</i>nd <i>ribollita. </i>Here we are at the end of May, where flowers in a number of small town festivals are separated into petals, stems and buds, destined to be<br />
re-used in the flower paintings.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QZDPjx6UpAebCF42eoKWuwXBPLTZxuL7-0qbz1uMThXWHSA2YJbJnStTZKR0MLOoeNmr5Y4nyV1WNcqu2DV6aDO0aLrVr8UsX3SRunlrm-IJAo3mW1C4o6daLtphXlgss6NJV9UEY5k/s1600/IMG_B2235.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="409" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QZDPjx6UpAebCF42eoKWuwXBPLTZxuL7-0qbz1uMThXWHSA2YJbJnStTZKR0MLOoeNmr5Y4nyV1WNcqu2DV6aDO0aLrVr8UsX3SRunlrm-IJAo3mW1C4o6daLtphXlgss6NJV9UEY5k/s640/IMG_B2235.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
For a day, Scarperia forgets its medieval origins mirrored in austere medieval architecture, and the streets and squares bloom. Drawings by local elementary school children (Piazza Clasio), middle school students (Piazza dei Vicari) and shop owners who access their inner child (via Roma) on a theme are chosen, faithfully recreated as patterns and<br />
outlined by the teachers or the artistically talented<br />
directly on the cobblestone pavement.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl05powfxVTyDtyz5XrXCW-ebV46tLdklLnyqfmossEOQkQALckL_XgDaAEXH0fIgTzahSYua-Vq6W5feonofzYZmDGUNT-m1a81ERWl_WZeU2dU_VIJPzOTLLX8E2B1EhMS6SAPzGE7o/s1600/IMG_C2279.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl05powfxVTyDtyz5XrXCW-ebV46tLdklLnyqfmossEOQkQALckL_XgDaAEXH0fIgTzahSYua-Vq6W5feonofzYZmDGUNT-m1a81ERWl_WZeU2dU_VIJPzOTLLX8E2B1EhMS6SAPzGE7o/s400/IMG_C2279.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
The locations come alive with people -- children, parent and residents -- decorating the designs, which come alive in 2D and sometimes 3D thanks to papier maché and flower installations.<br />
<br />
Petals lend the vividness, and with the mixture of colors and texture, the participant can create almost any shade he or she wants to see in the picture. Dark colors such as brown and black<br />
are applied with seeds and soil.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3qn-HGRxx0-WaP1f0MwWLOzIPoWqjgPttZ2k87vZfAoMfM3EYiwyI_aWWc9WXFkHZD7xjquwOnu_-AE2NG6sriHfL9oSTBrCy24_BH_jgxOE-aNviIA778KgZUDNa2_J_uhjBCsKH5Q/s1600/IMG_D2233.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3qn-HGRxx0-WaP1f0MwWLOzIPoWqjgPttZ2k87vZfAoMfM3EYiwyI_aWWc9WXFkHZD7xjquwOnu_-AE2NG6sriHfL9oSTBrCy24_BH_jgxOE-aNviIA778KgZUDNa2_J_uhjBCsKH5Q/s400/IMG_D2233.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
The 2016 theme was animals in literature.<br />
<br />
An eagerly-awaited moment of the event is the climb to the top of Palazzo dei Vicari. <br />
This is no Disney recreation, the building was the originally the headquarters of the military rulers, later turned into the bishop's palace in the late 16th century.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0bnNf6eoao7F0ADh9L8Wss1oy2InVX3QN608WQGBdktqnwCWmEethyphenhyphen-GVPErr2bkQXx92m8pYYyTi2GklFtcpMlXQmP3N3XWvktGINEo7U6i9TJi_R7Tucnz1UoOaaOoiz5jvoNt0mLM/s1600/scarperia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0bnNf6eoao7F0ADh9L8Wss1oy2InVX3QN608WQGBdktqnwCWmEethyphenhyphen-GVPErr2bkQXx92m8pYYyTi2GklFtcpMlXQmP3N3XWvktGINEo7U6i9TJi_R7Tucnz1UoOaaOoiz5jvoNt0mLM/s400/scarperia.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Great place for putting things into perspective: here is an overall view of the </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
fox petal painting.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00M1fNFHtw2xULyr2YoYY-vP3-hYqlTrwDmgiehnovkOnE4NDDzkLdIF-6v72Av139dAFyuDRfThnEb_vdtl498g3BiZD46v8C8On4aSaBpX-cBlv21O0Mqct-_X70x2jGjNdXojeUX0/s1600/IMG_E+2295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00M1fNFHtw2xULyr2YoYY-vP3-hYqlTrwDmgiehnovkOnE4NDDzkLdIF-6v72Av139dAFyuDRfThnEb_vdtl498g3BiZD46v8C8On4aSaBpX-cBlv21O0Mqct-_X70x2jGjNdXojeUX0/s400/IMG_E+2295.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
The eye-catching designs are a heart-warming manifestation of the local community. <br />
When the sun goes down, everyone, including the children, pitches in to dissemble their creations.<br />
<br />
Beauty is fleeting -- here it lasts the space of a day.<br />
<br />
But the "T" in Tuscany also stands for tradition, and next year<br />
the "Infiorata" will once again blossom<br />
and grace the streets and squares of Scarperia.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxe4s8TbrjVCuanWm66wUbLRFMToLjCztnSWSeA7x6XKZ6Safiw4nKMBI0k3vJDJN7Hsydp73K71C4a12Be2IZTM9ym54UTbqqx-bY3_NXVzln9jrU9Gmpvb7opPxeWZ12SSUnBHfrrk/s1600/IMG_Last+2277.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="417" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxe4s8TbrjVCuanWm66wUbLRFMToLjCztnSWSeA7x6XKZ6Safiw4nKMBI0k3vJDJN7Hsydp73K71C4a12Be2IZTM9ym54UTbqqx-bY3_NXVzln9jrU9Gmpvb7opPxeWZ12SSUnBHfrrk/s640/IMG_Last+2277.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Per fare tutto ci vuole un fiore -</i><br />
To make anything, you only need a flower.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i><br />
<i> reporting live for Beautiful Florence</i><br />
<i> -- Rosanna </i><br />
<i> & Greta Szabó </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
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Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-34822182195417083782016-03-26T08:34:00.002-07:002017-07-10T13:10:06.689-07:00Poli & Teatro Niccolini: Death & Resurrection<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Life, death and rebirth: the Easter story in three words. <br />
Easter 2016 in Florence was no exception.<br />
<br />
All the world's a stage," wrote William Shakespeare in "As You Like It."</div>
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Florence in 2016 saw the rebirth of its oldest stage, the Teatro Niccolini in early January, and right before Easter, the death of the actor who was invited to perform on opening night:<br />
Paolo Poli.<br />
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The origins of the theatre date back to the 1600s. Amplified to its current size between 1711 and 1764, its original name "Teatro del Cocomero" (Watermelon Theatre") merely mirrored its location on via del Cocomero" (Watermelon Street). In 1860, it was re-christened in honor of Giovanni Battisti Niccolini, a playwright from the Tuscan town of Livorno who had the honor of seeing his works on stage there. The road, now the present-day via dei Ricasoli leading from Florence's Cathedral to San Marco, was renamed for the second Prime Minister of a united Italian kingdom, Bettino Ricasoli. The statesman was a Florentine.<br />
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Florence was also the birthplace of the acclaimed stage actor Paolo Poli. He starred in 12 plays at the Niccolini in the 1980s until the early 1990s, when the theatre was closed. Graciously coming out of retirement at age 86 just for the occasion, his performance re-inaugurated the space after restoration and renovation which lasted exactly 10 years, from 2006 to 2016.</div>
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I met Poli at the event's press conference on January 9. He praised local publisher and entrepreneur Mauro Pagliai who purchased the building. Pagliai found financing to so the theatre could maintain its 18th century architecture with modern wiring, lighting and security and Poli thanked him<br />
"for giving the Niccolini back to the city." <br />
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Then he unexpectedly expressed his desire "to die in exile, like Dante."<br />
"Florence is a city of merchants with closed hearts, who as described in his 'Divine Comedy' are<br />
ungenerous and miserly, prideful and envious," he added.<br />
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Poli's wish was granted: he passed away in Rome. Dapper and elegant, I was not surprised to discover that he had a degree in French literature. Since I studied French and French literature for a number of years, even acting in a college production of "The Bourgeois Gentleman" by Molière (who knew I would move to Italy?), his style brought to mind the attitude of my teachers. <br />
Although they were "Québécois" (French-Canadians), they were careful<br />
to instill in us a Parisian accent and knowledge<br />
of France and French manners.<br />
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Back to Poli, he entered a new life on March 25. The date also happens to be Florentine New Year, the Feast of the Annunciation (Gabriel appearing to Mary). It was the first day on the calendar up to 1750 in Florence, where it is still celebrated with traditional events. Like it or not,<br />
Florence was Poli's final resting place.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hSa-tKWibJt7F6HjilyXlUhBrJTY5IFZiDFNNEBLXBsRe5koz1vrhmEPSfDUA0e8sLbs50uD_ki8TYNKXAD_Q-BHg-5RMG3jf5LcHfGu_4gX3KJ4qm564UubMf6JyX-VH1yG3lp_Pjc/s1600/Infuocati.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hSa-tKWibJt7F6HjilyXlUhBrJTY5IFZiDFNNEBLXBsRe5koz1vrhmEPSfDUA0e8sLbs50uD_ki8TYNKXAD_Q-BHg-5RMG3jf5LcHfGu_4gX3KJ4qm564UubMf6JyX-VH1yG3lp_Pjc/s320/Infuocati.JPG" width="320" /></a>In true Florentine style, the actual birth of of Teatro Niccolini had its roots in conflict. Members of the theatre company founded the "Accademia degli Immobili" on the premises of the present-day Niccolini in 1650. A year later, the group split: half went to establish the Teatro della Pergola, and those who remained renamed their company "Accademia degli Infuocati" (The Ardent Actors Academy). Their coat-of-arms, visible in the newly renovated theatre (right), is of a fiery time bomb beginning to explode.<br />
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A speaker at the event said that Pagliai (which means haystacks in Italian, notably combustible) was the right person to to reopen the Niccolini!<br />
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The Niccolini's fiery beginning was to continue throughout its history. After hosting notable productions and actors such as Poli and Vittorio Gassman, it closed in 1995. The theatre suffered abandonment, the ravages of time, even severe damage caused<br />
by a student sit-in which happened in 2002.<br />
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At the press preview, I was sitting one seat over from another extremely famous Italian stage actor, Gabriele Lavia. I surreptitiously aimed my Iphone camera towards him, and luckily, he didn't notice.<br />
I did, however, hear him comment that Pagliai's gamble was one of "incosciente follia" (pure madness, not taking risks into account).<br />
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In his "fool's paradise" Mauro Pagliai (above), found a bank foundation, the Ente Cassa di Risparmio, as a partial sponsor in the rebirth of the Niccolini. Knowing that the box office receipts from 406 seats plus boxes of a theatre prose season would probably not cover costs, he decided to turn the<br />
Niccolini into a "multipurpose cultural space."</div>
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Sounds like a man with vision.</div>
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In the 2 1/2 months of its newfound existence, the Teatro Niccolini has hosted a designer's event during Florence Fashion Week, a concert, and a performance of traditional and contemporary dance marking the close of the Korea Film Festival. Sunday evening chamber concerts, regularly held in </div>
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Teatro della Pergola's intimate Saloncino, have found a new home. Starting in May, to avoid waiting in lines, from 9 am - 5 pm, visitors to the Cathedral complex and museum have the option of viewing a video that provides background information on the landmarks. A bookshop and a café have been added to the ground floor.</div>
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Next door is a modest trattoria/pizzeria, which has been there for many years. The "Buca," in the title means that it is underground, probably in a former wine cellar. During my first year in Florence, in the '80s, I had a pizza there with my friend Marjorie Coeyman, who was working towards her masters at Florence's Middlebury College study center.</div>
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I remember Marjorie and I discovering pizza "capricciosa" (capricious pizza, a tomato base topped with a mixture of mozzarella, artichoke hearts, baked ham and mushrooms as well as the "quattro stagioni," which had the same ingredients neatly divided neatly into four sections. I believe that I ordered the former and Marjorie the latter, which surely reflected our personalities. <br />
We did not go downstairs, but dined on the streetfront patio.</div>
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Although I enjoyed the pizza, for now I never managed to go back. There will surely be an opportunity given the upcoming program at the Teatro Niccolini. <br />
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I initially meant to post this blog entry the weekend immediately following the re-opening, specifically after a Saturday afternoon meeting at Florence's La Repubblica. When I arrived at 5 pm, the meeting was postponed. "We are in the midst of covering a murder of an American --<br />
do you know her?" I was asked.<br />
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I did not personally know Ashley Olsen, although she was to change my life. Two days later I was asked to write a story on the case that was posted on the homepage of the national <i>Repubblica </i>web site -- a first for a piece in English, by a American no less. <br />
This led to five days of coverage on my part, relaunching my international career.<br />
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And the Niccolini? When would I write about the Niccolini?<br />
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You see, I had a second chance, during a weekend highlighting death and resurrection.<br />
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Below is a perspective from the seat where Paolo Poli sat on opening night, representing 3 1/2 centuries of passionate "theatre," reborn and destined to live on, portraying the dramas and comedies of life.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhi8IjS2E89XNp02Tx5Q6_np3d9457IKyzLLBCh_kgnoliashecdv46ZQ77S252nAhO2tlvyyICucoO6od7jSgabG-MJlBqPvyOnxi61p9124EprrPzEz9bPbCgCKjQrxQvdc_Pq2WgI/s1600/niccolinioggi_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhi8IjS2E89XNp02Tx5Q6_np3d9457IKyzLLBCh_kgnoliashecdv46ZQ77S252nAhO2tlvyyICucoO6od7jSgabG-MJlBqPvyOnxi61p9124EprrPzEz9bPbCgCKjQrxQvdc_Pq2WgI/s640/niccolinioggi_3.jpg" width="612" /></a><br />
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Happy Easter/ <i>Buona Pasqua!</i></div>
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<i>--</i>reporting live from <i>Beautiful Florence</i></div>
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<i> -- Rosanna</i></div>
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Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-62547808145695138132015-12-25T02:19:00.001-08:002017-12-24T08:58:35.027-08:00A Florence 2015 Christmas Card <div style="text-align: center;">
Your <i>Beautiful Florence </i>blogger returned from an eventful trip from the south of Italy regarding family matters on December 18, and on the morning of the 19th, attended a press conference connected with the Uffizi. The event was to present Florence's annual Christmas gift, a free exhibition called "The Never Seen" <i>(I Mai Visti) </i>with works coming from the gallery's storerooms. <br />
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This year's theme, the mythological and archetypal story of Hercules as portrayed in sculpture and paintings from the Roman times to the 17th century, was gorgeous but apart from the gemlike glow of some of the pigments, not particularly in synch with the season. The event, however, was the prelude of my discovery of <i>Beautiful Florence's </i>2015 Christmas card.<br />
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Drinks and finger food were offered to the journalists on the Uffizi terrace.</div>
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The medieval Palazzo Vecchio, loomed nearby--the building seemed so close that one could almost reach out and touch the stonework. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1qDPaHgydZQAdNvVYXaC8pStJouw-GVSA4xSaRMVHCviez3I-N24VlyRRWhkEhNaffsqDaqePvi5IcGf46h_Jsq-sloaiv8rJdSy1cPmhQ4WdoVmpt5AaTcif6UOFJMzIQeyWFsnUoQ/s1600/IMG_1911+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1qDPaHgydZQAdNvVYXaC8pStJouw-GVSA4xSaRMVHCviez3I-N24VlyRRWhkEhNaffsqDaqePvi5IcGf46h_Jsq-sloaiv8rJdSy1cPmhQ4WdoVmpt5AaTcif6UOFJMzIQeyWFsnUoQ/s400/IMG_1911+copy.JPG" width="345" /></a><br />
Finished at the end of the 13th century, Palazzo Vecchio, originally called the <i>Palazzo dei Priori, </i>was constructed as the headquarters of the Florentine republic. Half fortress, half city hall, it was the seat of a European powerhouse--by the 1290s Florence was one of Europe's five largest cities, with a population of about 100,000. Commerce and a booming textile industry also made it one of Europe's wealthiest. The rich merchants and nobles who governed Florence (has much changed eight centuries later?) wanted a building that would communicate the power of their republic, governed at that time by the Florentine people.<br />
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After the respite in the tepid winter sun, to exit, I had to walk down an endless corridor encompassing half of the Uffizi. Chronologically organized according to theme, I stumbled upon Room 71 (of 93!!)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCrIXo1OJ0bnwMv0dEdX1Lk51sq_qsGa9RwqIZv4QRg0eO25FGFR80xyppi1uskKGZi0RuPQba3NVxPbemDIy_XUWBkE3I_8bTGrRrBB1ca5lKNpea37HWvw0O-MIZ-1zxK_GTbG7XC48/s1600/IMG_1923+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCrIXo1OJ0bnwMv0dEdX1Lk51sq_qsGa9RwqIZv4QRg0eO25FGFR80xyppi1uskKGZi0RuPQba3NVxPbemDIy_XUWBkE3I_8bTGrRrBB1ca5lKNpea37HWvw0O-MIZ-1zxK_GTbG7XC48/s400/IMG_1923+copy.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
My feet were beginning to feel weary, but however, the rich collection of paintings beckoned me to stop and look.<br />
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Then, I saw<i> it.</i><br />
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Correggio's <i>Madonna and Child Between Two Angel Musicians </i>(1515-16).<br />
<i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmGEbW0jEnaBwwBlnG8vaFjY-04_tIZiN-w9u420EJSWPgjmZZakQSJfsT7evRUbwBGC3I_refDqkUSjfF3QG7c0J9dylpYVtolFQXtghCCXBs2kNG5Zw7d5q8s0lxuJjkvDw4m3BgRKE/s1600/IMG_Correggio+photo.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmGEbW0jEnaBwwBlnG8vaFjY-04_tIZiN-w9u420EJSWPgjmZZakQSJfsT7evRUbwBGC3I_refDqkUSjfF3QG7c0J9dylpYVtolFQXtghCCXBs2kNG5Zw7d5q8s0lxuJjkvDw4m3BgRKE/s400/IMG_Correggio+photo.JPG" width="360" /></a></i><br />
Antonio Allegri da Correggio (from Correggio, a town in nearby region of Emilia) created this work early in his career. The background is pure gold, a throwback to earlier Italian primitive <i>fondo oro </i>masterpieces without a realist background; here, however, the figures are completely naturalistic.<br />
Correggio's birthplace was absorbed into the Duchy of Modena, a sweeter, gentler place than Florence, also evidence by the local cuisine. The artist Correggio's depiction of the Madonna and Child is, in fact, tender. The lessons of the Renaissance are evident in the play of light and shadow (chiaroscuro), as seen in the left angels's wing with the lighting obscured by Mary's veil.<br />
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Correggio worked at the court of Mantua, which place a great emphasis on music. When looking at the painting, on can almost hear the celestial Christmas music from the harp and violin.<br />
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The<i> Madonna and Child Between Two Angel Musicians </i>is believed to have belonged to the last Medici ruler, Anna Maria Luisa, who prized it so much that she took it with her when she left Florence to marry a German prince. Upon his death, it returned to the city, and later became part of the Uffizi collection that she willed to Florence for posterity.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "palatino"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2A237rv6HTkhn11FE6dJfwo50NdRqkFJ4CIKlJhyHJW81nWN1E-prztqtgoLsZiNRR_0ZxuWR1bsRWGYDD3eTRehmgetDl-ergz7etwJZl0OPyx-RicY7kVf4vCjsnotGUqIhFlSI90E/s1600/IMG_Correggio+photo+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2A237rv6HTkhn11FE6dJfwo50NdRqkFJ4CIKlJhyHJW81nWN1E-prztqtgoLsZiNRR_0ZxuWR1bsRWGYDD3eTRehmgetDl-ergz7etwJZl0OPyx-RicY7kVf4vCjsnotGUqIhFlSI90E/s400/IMG_Correggio+photo+copy.JPG" width="340" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "cambria";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";">Mary is wearing a robe of dark pink rose draped in lapis lazzuli, the Child reaches toward an angel, other-worldly seraphim adore from above and below, sense of stillness and peace pervades all in a precious setting of gold.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "cambria";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "palatino"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "cambria";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";">Light, color and sound, beauty and balance: </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "cambria";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";">a Child is born this day.</span></span></span><br />
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<i>Buon Natale </i>from<br />
<i>Beautiful Florence</i><br />
<i> -- Rosanna</i></div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-4323145336178325472015-11-18T03:42:00.001-08:002015-11-18T03:43:56.826-08:00Nov. 2015 in Florence: Pope Francis & the Paris Tragedy<div style="text-align: center;">
It was a little over a week ago, although it seems an eternity given what happened in Paris immediately afterwards, that Pope Francis visited Florence. Like a rock star, the Pope arrived in a helicopter which landed in nearby Prato, an industrial city where he publicly condemned the problem of thousands of illegal Chinese immigrants who are employed in textile factory sweatshops. </div>
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Another helicopter ride and he was in Florence, where he had lunch at the Caritas soup kitchen staffed by volunteers. Pope Francis was served the simple, yet hearty, meal of the day given to the poor on the usual plastic plate, with plastic utensils. After an after-lunch siesta in the Curia headquarters, he visited the newly renovated, state-of-the art Cathedral museum and then went to the Florence stadium in the Popemobile. Here <i>Sua Sanctità </i>(as Italians call him) is in Piazza del Duomo, Florence's cathedral square, in the company of Cardinal Betori.</div>
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At the stadium he said, "I would like the Church not to rest easy but rather be anxious, in order to get close to the those whose are abandoned, forgotten and imperfect. I would like the Church to have the face of a mother, who understands, accompanies and caresses. I would like you to share the same dream of a Church just like this, to believe in it and be able to innovative in complete freedom."</div>
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The aura of peace that Pope Francis left Florence (even traffic jams disappeared for a day) was shattered by the Friday the 13th massacre of innocent civilians in Paris clubs and restaurants. But (who knows!) his words helped to inspire the gesture decided by Florence's city council pictured below:</div>
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the open-air copy of Michelangelo's David, that ultimate symbol of freedom wearing a black armband with the French flag draped at his feet.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #252525; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></span>This strong message from David can be seen in front of city hall in front of </div>
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Palazzo Vecchio, Piazza Signoria.</div>
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The photo of the Pope is by faithful <i>Beautiful Florence </i>blog photographer Cathleen Guerrero.</div>
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<i>Reporting live from Beautiful Florence -- Rosanna</i></div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-82742949772887080952015-08-11T11:28:00.000-07:002017-05-15T11:44:31.741-07:00The Tuscan Summer of 2015 & 1944<div style="text-align: center;">
Today is August 11, marking the 72nd anniversary of Florence & Tuscany's liberation from Nazi and Fascist forces thanks to the efforts of the Allies who proceeded northward from Rome, aided by local<i> partigiani </i>(Italian resistance fighters). </div>
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2015 is also the hottest Tuscan summer since records were kept, with daytime temperatures hitting 102°F. </div>
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Even for a die-hard beach aficionado like me,</div>
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the heat was too much to head to the coast on weekends.</div>
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I abandoned my spot under a beach umbrella </div>
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(left) along the Mediterranean, and began to dream of a picture I published in the magazine <i>Vista, Florence & Tuscany. </i>Taken by my work soul mate Andrea Pistolesi, it depicted a waterfall somewhere near the Tuscan border with </div>
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Emilia Romagna.</div>
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That picture haunted me. An alternative image popped into my mind's eye: a cool, clear river I bathed in many years ago. With only my memory to go on, I decided to find it, and to return.</div>
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In the search, friends Erin (mother of a toddler and six months pregnant), husband Chris and myself, took a trip back to the tumultuous liberation of Tuscany as well as to the timeless beauty of the countryside.</div>
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I called old friend, Andrea Politi, remembering having been invited to a convivial lunch at his family country home near Pelago, and indeed, he identified the river as the Vicano, which follows its course close by, eventually flowing into the Arno.</div>
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One Sunday morning, Erin, little Elise, Chris and myself went up to the mountain pass of the Consuma (3000 ft), hosting a village renowned for its <i>schiacciata</i>, the Tuscan variant of the <i>focaccia,</i> which comes topped or filled with a choice of vine-ripened tomatoes, porcini mushrooms from the local woods, onions, ham, cheese etc. We had<i> </i>a mid-morning <i>merenda </i>(snack), accompanied by espresso, but had so enjoyed our authentic Italian moment in a non-touristy location that we neglected to take pictures.</div>
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Chris drove us down the mountain to an altitude of 1500 ft, to Diacceto, where we made a turn-off to Ferrano. As per Andrea's directions, Chris drove to the end of paved road, and continued to on a dirt road (<i>strada bianca) </i>to the end, until we saw a small chapel.</div>
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"This is Andrea's property!," I said, and indeed later on he confirmed that that his rustic country home and chapel were originally part of a larger estate and that his ancestors were originally tenant farmers.</div>
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It was Erin who spotted the plaque on the house first.</div>
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It says that a Jewish family found refuge within its walls thanks to the big-heartedness of Giuseppe Politi, Andrea's father. Their lives were saved in the wilderness of Ferrano, and the marker commemorates this fact for posterity.</div>
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"They were the Navarro family from Rome," Andrea told us later, "who had friends in Diacceto, just down the road, on the way to Pelago."</div>
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It was Andrea's late father, a partisan fighter known as<br />
<i>Braccioforte </i>(Strong Arm) who sheltered them. He headed a group of 200 men, the Perseo brigade, who sabotaged the German's mean's of communications and routes, also to help defend the<br />
local population.<br />
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In retaliation, the Nazis rounded up 19 locals, including women and children, who were the victims of a massacre. For their anti-Nazi and anti-Fascist stance and actions, the village of Pelago was awarded a silver medal at WW2's end.</div>
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The house itself is from the 1700s, a quintessential slice of true Tuscany.</div>
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Andrea's sister lives here in the summer, while Andrea himself and wife Nicole, of Polish-Jewish heritage whom he met on a trip to Paris, arrive from Florence on the weekends.</div>
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After a picnic lunch among the olive groves, it was time to find the river.</div>
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Indeed refreshing, but only one to three ft. deep because of the drought, alas! we did not go swimming.</div>
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Sitting on cool rocks, we put our legs and feet in. The Vicano indeed pristine as the nature surrounding it, and full of fish and crayfish. <i>NB: from a subsequent Internet search, I discovered that the place to bathe in the Vicano river is at Fontisterni, several miles away, where German tourists have been even reported to dive in the river's pools recklessly headfirst.</i></div>
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Another memory flooded in my head: that of a stone church dating back from 1100 CE (or AD).</div>
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Andrea obliged us and led the way in his vintage Vespa scooter, from 1984.</div>
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Isn't it a beauty?</div>
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As timeless as the original Fiat 500.</div>
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In any case, we were traveling in a red Opel Corsa, half-German, half U.S. General Motors car, bought new in</div>
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1996.</div>
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It was an uphill drive -- great for a spring or fall hike -- but now I was glad to be in the car.</div>
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Suddenly, after parking, we were in the presence of a perfectly preserved stone Romanesque church.</div>
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Its antiquity is testified to by the open bell tower and the<br />
single rose window.</div>
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The church's name is Santa Maria a Ferrano</div>
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(St. Mary of Ferrano), and is located at 1800 ft. For the record, it was built in the 11th century, and belonged to the Albizi family</div>
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(my office in Florence happens to be on Borgo degli Albizi, and the descendants of the family still live in the Renaissance section of the palazzo).</div>
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Santa Maria a Ferrano has been more or less abandoned since 1574, occasionally serving as a barn, before becoming recuperated by a religious community headed by a German monk. He has apparently taken to Italian habits and was away on vacation.</div>
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Hence the door was locked.</div>
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Years ago, once inside, I saw a wood beam ceiling and a ray of setting sun come in through the bare rose window, to strike the stone altar.<br />
Indelible memory.</div>
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This is the view of the hills around Ferrano and Santa Maria a Ferrano, woods filled with chestnut, beech and fir trees.</div>
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Driving back, I saw a sign for Rufina, which provided an adventure for the following weekend for me, Erin & family: a visit to Petrognano, a farm bed-and-breakfast w/pool (we swam at last!) belonging to friends Enrico Lagorio of the La Toraia Chianina burger food truck fame, and his wife Antonella.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuhRcFCjkzqVeNRA1tEqlYe0CBAC1RDk67WUbhyphenhyphene7Lyd6nN6fFvNeLE-IAbCQwlYVqntALkURk9vaJ6G5qx0CK0_E8A_Jli5xM4j0Jo30h46bPd_5YY6wxAD3bIpZZNlHIgaFBPD65qg/s1600/IMG_1581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuhRcFCjkzqVeNRA1tEqlYe0CBAC1RDk67WUbhyphenhyphene7Lyd6nN6fFvNeLE-IAbCQwlYVqntALkURk9vaJ6G5qx0CK0_E8A_Jli5xM4j0Jo30h46bPd_5YY6wxAD3bIpZZNlHIgaFBPD65qg/s400/IMG_1581.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Here Chris, Erin and Elise are going into lunch and meeting another family.</div>
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In a twist of fate, Petrognano is situated right below Pomino, which was for centuries an Albizi wine estate. The family coat-of-arms still graces the then (19th century) innovative white wine blend, Pomino Bianco.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It would appear that I have a karmic link with this historic Florentine family, although my family is originally (and proudly) from the hills of Lucania, province of Matera, near Pollino.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWuvI0rYijsz-rWOTuwVf_axgxlBqtLoxZvlB3N9Cf1UuXsUWMZI5WJ4mXGb9H9UDEkR-6hU_hc4gy8PFz67ejKCF8grNYDEsiI7ABB56DbMpfzVCBacGeEVEB_lRx6kKKE6PWiC0zIKI/s1600/IMG_1575.me+%2526+AndreaJPG+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWuvI0rYijsz-rWOTuwVf_axgxlBqtLoxZvlB3N9Cf1UuXsUWMZI5WJ4mXGb9H9UDEkR-6hU_hc4gy8PFz67ejKCF8grNYDEsiI7ABB56DbMpfzVCBacGeEVEB_lRx6kKKE6PWiC0zIKI/s400/IMG_1575.me+%2526+AndreaJPG+copy.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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As for me and Andrea, as pictured, we continue the long trail of our friendship.</div>
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It dates back to when I first arrived in <i>Beautiful Florence</i> as a young girl, when I became friends with his neighbor, Mariangela Bortolani, introduced to me by art historians Lucia Monaci Moran and Gordon Moran. Older than us -- I learned during our adventure that Andrea was born to Bracciaforte (Strong Arm) and his wife at the beginning of peacetime, the end of 1945.</div>
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<br /></div>
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He has always been to Mariangela, an art conservator who is from the mountains of Emilia and who would probably recognize Andrea Pistolesi's waterfall photo -- and I,<br />
nothing less than a Tuscan big brother.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>Reporting live-- </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i></i><i> Rosanna</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-58945788749209806772015-04-05T10:50:00.002-07:002019-01-23T14:26:01.876-08:00Italian Health Care & A Personal Resurrection<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2DO92g2imMeW0C9l4G0pWoHErEVGSEs69flnR7IBF8jx2p2UtYoOkb6l303Ts-Jo01Cx6Rs3VBLQzCYXpc5ekKOmxRCcckHq_3qGU6zzkF26mgoC1qdngiGoG5hfbD3IT3_lywdEoM8/s1600/IMG_doc+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2DO92g2imMeW0C9l4G0pWoHErEVGSEs69flnR7IBF8jx2p2UtYoOkb6l303Ts-Jo01Cx6Rs3VBLQzCYXpc5ekKOmxRCcckHq_3qGU6zzkF26mgoC1qdngiGoG5hfbD3IT3_lywdEoM8/s1600/IMG_doc+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Today is Easter, and with no disrespect intended to Christ, I would like to write about a personal resurrection in part engineered by the Italian nationalized health care system (free for everyone, even tourists, no need for insurance).</div>
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<br /></div>
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This year, I was one of the many laid low by a particularly nasty form of flu. Laid low is a compliment, knocked out is a better description. It started as a cold and stuffed sinuses and progressed from there. I had to take a cab home from work after emailing<i> La Repubblica</i> -- for whom I write a column -- </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that I was ill.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The next morning, with practically no voice, I called my family M.D., Dr. Carlo Ressel (pictured above in his office at Due Strade). He is available for phone consultations twice a day -- again at no charge. When he heard me croaking, Dr. Ressel immediately asked if I had a fever (Italians are obsessed with <i>la febbre </i>as a symptom<i>). </i>I don't think so, I replied. "I will be in your neighborhood tomorrow afternoon, and if I don't see you at the clinic, I will make a house call," was his reply.</div>
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<br /></div>
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In Italy, a house call doesn't cost a dime.</div>
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The next day, despite chills, aches and pains, I managed to get dressed and walk down the block to his office. He examined me and again asked if I had had a fever. "Well, I don't know," I replied.</div>
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"I couldn't find the thermometer, and really....I don't get this bit about sticking it under the armpit </div>
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like everyone here does and not in my mouth. </div>
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Plus, the temperature is in Centigrade or Celsius, not Fahrenheit."</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAUB0n3jFprioyz4xyDRqEZSAcdAOBdHbKV0dmmur6-fh0jy_4EvUzTdJPbJNXcv4zFc-DPXDm8744-1uY1l6n-RaaGYSU-URfVJ0VOXRxS38SAILgRnORtlPw2sl0H014yOvX_y9tonQ/s1600/Cropped_Themometer+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAUB0n3jFprioyz4xyDRqEZSAcdAOBdHbKV0dmmur6-fh0jy_4EvUzTdJPbJNXcv4zFc-DPXDm8744-1uY1l6n-RaaGYSU-URfVJ0VOXRxS38SAILgRnORtlPw2sl0H014yOvX_y9tonQ/s1600/Cropped_Themometer+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ressel laughed and proceeded to measure it. Despite his name, he is indeed an Italian </div>
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-- a Florentine he would specify -- M.D. </div>
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He is descended from Josef Ressel, of Austrian-Czech origin, who emigrated to Trieste and invented both the ship propeller and steamship. His great-grandson has inherited Josef's love of the sea.<br />
On duty 11 months a year, Dr. Carlo Ressel takes a month's vacation<br />
(as all Italians did pre-recession)</div>
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in July on the island of Elba. As state-subsidized health care is available year-round,<br />
a substitute takes his place.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Here and now, he told me to come back in a few days and wrote a prescription. </div>
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As in most clinics in Italy, the pharmacy is practically next door.</div>
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Well, I believe in natural remedies and holistic medicine but I was in no shape to go to downtown Florence. I was grateful for what I was given (above), which helped me greatly, along with throat remedies and the Italian version of Vicks Vaporub.</div>
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</div>
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After displaying my <i>tessera sanitaria </i>(Italian national health care card), I pulled out my wallet.</div>
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Guess what? I didn't pay anything, not a single euro.<br />
I turned the above box around and read (as the gentle reader can see)</div>
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<i>Confezione dispensata dal SSN </i>-- medicine courtesy of the Servizio Sanitaria Italiana</div>
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--the Italian Health Care System. </div>
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I will take that over an HMO or Blue Cross any day.</div>
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After spending three more days in bed, somewhat better, with a hint of appetite returning,</div>
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I had breakfast on Monday morning and returned to the office.</div>
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Despite the fact I had sent an article to <i>Repubblica </i>written by a collaborator, </div>
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I noticed the old column was still online. There was only one possible thing to do:</div>
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invent an option. I communicated this via email, specifying that I wasn't completely well,</div>
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and astonishingly (my editor is rarely in contact, simply too busy)</div>
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received this reply:</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Ciao Rosanna, just tell us what we can put. A big hug.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
lm" (= Laura Montanari)</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thanks to to that message, I entered into a quiet interior space.</div>
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It reminded me of 20 years ago, when I wrote a column for the print version of Florence's <i>La Repubblica,</i> that I reported for work once more with the flu, this time with a fever. I sought a free computer, and found one, next to executive editor Claudio Giua's office,<br />
at the desk of the late Paolo Vagheggi.</div>
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<br />
Again, I was in the eye of the storm, the tempest being a deadline I was really too ill to meet.</div>
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I went beyond time and space and did it in just under two hours.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Fast forward to the present, then as now, I made it.</div>
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The next day, again in bed, with Arlene, the faithful Filippino cleaner (since '96!) hovering over me instead of ironing, the congratulatory phone calls began.</div>
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The column I wrote in a comatose yet calm state was a huge success:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://firenze.repubblica.it/cronaca/2015/02/16/news/a_special_florence_museum_week-107477880/">http://firenze.repubblica.it/cronaca/2015/02/16/news/a_special_florence_museum_week-107477880/</a><br />
<br />
All I needed to do was <i>be.</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
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Well, I had managed to get home the day not by cab but on my own power.</div>
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Luckily, I didn't need an ambulance. And -- guess what -- if</div>
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I had (like this one pictured above at the Santa Maria Nuovo hospital close to my office)</div>
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it, too, is FREE. The vehicle is supplied by the Italian health care system. The drivers and paramedics -- all specially trained -- belong to a completely volunteer ambulance service,</div>
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the Misericordia (literally: mercy or compassion for others in misery, to be helped with heart).</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Misericordia had been helping the the sick and injured in Tuscany since the times of the plague,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>that is, 1244. </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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But that's another story.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> -- Rosanna</i></div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-24196600150379675062014-12-25T10:22:00.001-08:002014-12-29T22:25:20.795-08:0085 Years at Casa dei Tessuti<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQxveMzU6aQ-YsdUGYb2PLGSOFpsJzsssp4wsn7dCYsURAXzLngWuNEDNrhrvbIzvuvje3z4TAU6e-EpMt6wGWo3JN91h_kVRzhIoOZkWqPY5a3PGGnnH-6Ne_9-3ArkqSofuEWiFkXE/s1600/DSC_0379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQxveMzU6aQ-YsdUGYb2PLGSOFpsJzsssp4wsn7dCYsURAXzLngWuNEDNrhrvbIzvuvje3z4TAU6e-EpMt6wGWo3JN91h_kVRzhIoOZkWqPY5a3PGGnnH-6Ne_9-3ArkqSofuEWiFkXE/s1600/DSC_0379.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's Christmastime and everyone loves a party. But what are those bolts of fabric doing behind the<br />
hors d'oeuvres? As a tailor's daughter who appreciates fabric, without ever learning to sew, I was glad to be invited to the<i> 85th anniversary bash </i>of Florence's House of Fabrics,<br />
Casa dei Tessuti, on via de'Pecori,<br />
along with faithful blog photographer Lakota Gamill.<br />
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This is one of the window displays with an alluring evening gown<br />
made from one of the bolts of fabric displayed within the shop and for sale.<br />
Any takers for New Year's?<br />
<br />
Even the unsuspecting visitor could see that tradition reigns at the Casa dei Tessuti.<br />
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These are present-day representatives of the militia of the glorious Republic of Florence, hired for the<br />
celebration to welcome guests. Normally they are on duty during city ceremonies as well as for the<br />
parade preceding the yearly Calcio Storico (in semifinals and finals, representatives from four Florentine neighborhood compete against each other in a Renaissance sport combining rugby, soccer and occasional brute violence).<br />
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Casa dei Tessuti was founded in 1929 by Egisto Romoli. His sons Romano and Romolo Romoli still run the shop today. The brothers believe that the store is carrying on the tradition of Florence's glorious Wool and Silk Guilds. Artisan guilds were so important to Florence that delegates from each formed the ruling city council during the medieval times in the republic that eventually gave way to three centuries of control by the Medici family.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheJAkmrFgsWGbh_XcKyvk4EuC8_dl5wHnRYXa5GClF4LIotkr0qPGTfO79mIgZOA5XU4vWB3ClBleJAWH7s5ouVg85BPmw8vYH4GbMSMj0b__PHUQ_3ZQjyPotCXv1hx1yQaLysZLM044/s1600/DSC_0409+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheJAkmrFgsWGbh_XcKyvk4EuC8_dl5wHnRYXa5GClF4LIotkr0qPGTfO79mIgZOA5XU4vWB3ClBleJAWH7s5ouVg85BPmw8vYH4GbMSMj0b__PHUQ_3ZQjyPotCXv1hx1yQaLysZLM044/s1600/DSC_0409+copy.jpg" height="320" width="277" /></a></div>
Above left is Romano Romoli next to Kathy Knippel, director of Studio Fuji Art Studio, a Florence school of textile design, silkscreening and fashion. She created the soft sculpture above the antique cash register depicting the workers of the wool guild and gave it the Casa dei Tessuti as a gift.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVj4-ZsE9b_Ehrn9zPw2pR4DCpVUSIAWlqcbhR5-kTpXEq8ASU84OPAwXZZor1NQA8NfZNS5cFx8yjN4wBXGGmZM-B95AjpwcamQrJSu4xZzkGOQ2Y2Gx3BnbP_rG-stU9NzhwAOrP68/s1600/DSC_0375+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVj4-ZsE9b_Ehrn9zPw2pR4DCpVUSIAWlqcbhR5-kTpXEq8ASU84OPAwXZZor1NQA8NfZNS5cFx8yjN4wBXGGmZM-B95AjpwcamQrJSu4xZzkGOQ2Y2Gx3BnbP_rG-stU9NzhwAOrP68/s1600/DSC_0375+copy.jpg" height="320" width="278" /></a>Romano's father, Egisto, decreed that all the personnel hired by Casa Tessuti for posterity would be men. So it was, and continues to be: to the right is Andrea Spulcioni, who accepted an offer of employment at the shop at the tender age of 15, in 1974.</div>
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"I have seen the world without leaving Florence," says Andrea. "I've served the queens of Holland and Denmark, Bedouins in their native dress, bejeweled women with no credit left on their cards, and people who appeared down and out <i>(straccioni, </i>literally: dressed in tatters: Maybe they needed a new wardrobe!<i>) </i>who purchased 7,000 euro worth of fabric." Buying habits have changed, he notes, the locals who would make small purchases have diminished, giving way to the "well-to-do tourist who spend a bundle and takes away bundles and bundles."<br />
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All have the option to have clothes made to measure by tailors and seamstresses. My father would have been content.<br />
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My heart-sister, Mary Louise, calls me "the hand," for my ability to touch and assess fabrics and textiles, my father's legacy. Well, "the hand," reached out to touch cashmere, wool, alpaca, linen, cotton in addition to silk prints, gorgeous brocades and damasks.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTxWAoxaWGVG4-DBwiWf1S2qKKpPdDeAcYGqg23mdPCLsxRmCqeU9G2rRAYxqqnuUaHAnTZbQo2TBiqkhb9ZnsJapBGwYQnE7zvIfyp0TmbeYuKVBHImeb0rySK41fVYPLn2zBeiZcWHI/s1600/DSC_0436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTxWAoxaWGVG4-DBwiWf1S2qKKpPdDeAcYGqg23mdPCLsxRmCqeU9G2rRAYxqqnuUaHAnTZbQo2TBiqkhb9ZnsJapBGwYQnE7zvIfyp0TmbeYuKVBHImeb0rySK41fVYPLn2zBeiZcWHI/s1600/DSC_0436.jpg" height="320" width="314" /></a></div>
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The store carries original fabrics by Valentino, Ungaro, Dior, Pucci and Cavalli<br />
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as well as textiles inspired by the designs of Chanel.<br />
My heart-sister recalls, on a visit to Florence, that Romano showed her<br />
a small swatch of "fabric"<br />
made with woven peacock feather strands.</div>
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On a more modest note, Andrea is especially proud of the selection of<br />
English fabrics and genuine Scottish tweeds,</div>
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including Harris tweed, which, because of the loom, can be no wider than 70 cm (27 1/2 inches).</div>
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I asked Andrea why Egisto preferred to have men only at the service of customers.<br />
"He believed that a women could not, in complete honesty, advise another woman on the choice of fabric and color. Egisto felt there was always a touch of<br />
hidden jealousy in dealings between the gentle sex.<br />
Since men and women are not competitive in regards to fashion, a man can be counted on to be completely honest on what best suits a client."<br />
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I wonder what Egisto would have thought of his grandson Alessandro, Romano's son, and his companion Sibilla,<br />
who are pictured below with the celebratory anniversary cake.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnHl-J7S78CBeOCYUqhORigWbv3IhF3wEjk9nC1QtEyfJTK1zpSwCegJoECGRqLTv-emdU9Qncv-km77POsyP0kjX_B6kUcJvqBNl-PDJVn-ng7z4_eumoqs5FvZZb_nxpgbUtXYaud5A/s1600/DSC_0440+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnHl-J7S78CBeOCYUqhORigWbv3IhF3wEjk9nC1QtEyfJTK1zpSwCegJoECGRqLTv-emdU9Qncv-km77POsyP0kjX_B6kUcJvqBNl-PDJVn-ng7z4_eumoqs5FvZZb_nxpgbUtXYaud5A/s1600/DSC_0440+copy.jpg" height="400" width="230" /></a></div>
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Rest in peace, Egisto, for again in keeping with tradition, Sibilla has set foot in Casa dei Tessuti to participate in 85th anniversary bash; career-wise she is a Florence tour guide.</div>
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At present, Alessandro flanks Andrea in customer care. He will carry the fabrics and unmuted, unchanging tradition of the Casa dei Tessuti into the future.</div>
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Reporting live from <i>Beautiful Florence</i></div>
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<i> -- Rosanna</i></div>
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Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-44178059969430849832014-09-14T07:30:00.002-07:002014-09-14T08:59:07.431-07:00George Clooney, Florence & the Local Press<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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George Clooney was in Florence recently to participate in the first-ever 'Celebrity Fight Night.'</div>
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He along with celebrity peers such as Lionel Richie, Sophie Loren, multiple Grammy award winner David Foster, and of course, Andrea Boccelli, made guest appearances at a number of events designed to raise money for the Muhammed Ali Parkinson Center.</div>
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Blue bloods and fashion designers of Florentine high society were the hosts,<br />
opening palaces and museums.</div>
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As for what the Florentine in the street thought of the event,</div>
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gentle readers only needed to take a look at the headlines of the local newspapers.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMSvCspn-PBFetYZkffm66jmY5cj42Ycn0RHa9HJD0iu2CURyqMPtiYaWNV_FDq4NunmQth0UlVZddbk553jsiUjBXxz9zLeXkOy9l1uZOsfr2ZDNvgmtOyuiSLbNRHfzXs_NFWh4kVs/s1600/Newsboard+websize+large+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMSvCspn-PBFetYZkffm66jmY5cj42Ycn0RHa9HJD0iu2CURyqMPtiYaWNV_FDq4NunmQth0UlVZddbk553jsiUjBXxz9zLeXkOy9l1uZOsfr2ZDNvgmtOyuiSLbNRHfzXs_NFWh4kVs/s1600/Newsboard+websize+large+2.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Clooney of course was accompanied by his fiancée Amal Alamuddin</div>
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the "signora," or lady in the above title from the Florence edition of <i>La Repubblica.</i></div>
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Despite my fluent Italian, I needed to check the work "delirio" out.</div>
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This is what I found, "stato di esaltazione, fanatismo" (an exalted state or</div>
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fanatasism) translating correctly to "frenzy or fury."</div>
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Taken literally, the headline says that the city was in a state of delirium for Clooney and lady.</div>
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Or, in simple English, Clooney's local fans, the entire population of Florence,</div>
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was overcome with excitement.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24eoWV2cHUJStr8OYLCNI2btm8YdPBj4Pkf3eWw42J1Iv2FGl1Mceb-UeGIuMuglOgAIQT0hkz8IskcN44YFkuZrZ2CWnO1iTYpB-M5ScSI1mWmLSbjwfSeWA0XaKB-IDMBD4k_FA_r8/s1600/Newsboard+websized+large+1+redone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24eoWV2cHUJStr8OYLCNI2btm8YdPBj4Pkf3eWw42J1Iv2FGl1Mceb-UeGIuMuglOgAIQT0hkz8IskcN44YFkuZrZ2CWnO1iTYpB-M5ScSI1mWmLSbjwfSeWA0XaKB-IDMBD4k_FA_r8/s1600/Newsboard+websized+large+1+redone.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Interestingly enough, the Florence edition of <i>Corriere della Sera, </i>the<i> Corriere Fiorentino</i>, flipped the order of the day's two main stories: local soccer first, then Clooney.</div>
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Again, the <i>Corriere</i> reported that the local residents were deliriously happy by Clooney's visit</div>
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(Firenze in Delirio).</div>
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<i>La signora </i>(Amal), is mentioned as Clooney's "girlfriend," which, despite the similarity to "fiancée," is the correct translation of "fidanzata" from Italian into English.</div>
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Below is the front page of the most local of the local Florence newspapers, <i>La Nazione.</i></div>
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Surprisingly, unlike the competitors, no mention at all of the local soccer team, La Fiorentina; "rificolona," is a local annual festivity, for which according to <i>La Nazione, </i>thousands of people crowded into the local squares (<i>migliaia in piazza).</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_Z7VUovy2YyYSdn3-LTnX05vlP-eX-3dc9kEd1sCouo8vjtuCjMdsjo0w7o5Jbvp9Zk_vSdeYbTKKvFi2L8g_FFVLmRMKSjnxmTrwYbQ-WTzqUPYmJA-ud2jq5xiZ6gy6b0zG6Q5v7k/s1600/Newsboard+websized+large+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_Z7VUovy2YyYSdn3-LTnX05vlP-eX-3dc9kEd1sCouo8vjtuCjMdsjo0w7o5Jbvp9Zk_vSdeYbTKKvFi2L8g_FFVLmRMKSjnxmTrwYbQ-WTzqUPYmJA-ud2jq5xiZ6gy6b0zG6Q5v7k/s1600/Newsboard+websized+large+3.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Clooney is again the top story, even if alluded to indirectly. The first line says that there was a VIP party in Palazzo Vecchio (a medieval building with tower home to Florence's City Hall)</div>
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and, once again, there was an outpouring of emotion from fans bordering on hysteria <i>(delirio)</i>.</div>
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Undoubtedly not for city mayor Dario Nardella, but but for George Clooney who took the mike to announce that he had met his bride-to-be in Italy, and that they would tie the knot in Italy,</div>
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in Venice.</div>
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The mayor expressed his disappointment -- and the city's -- that Florence was not to be the venue for the wedding--if not the century--of the decade.</div>
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As those who travel to Italy know, the front pages of the local papers are displayed next to newsstands to inform and to entice people to buy and learn the details.</div>
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I saw these three front pages side by side, united by the Clooney</div>
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story and the agreement that emotion surrounding his visit was at fever pitch.</div>
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No mention anywhere of how much money was raised.</div>
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In all my years as a English language reporter in Florence, I had never seen before </div>
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unanimous agreement among competing mastheads of major news outlets. Unimaginable.</div>
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That is what an American movie superstar <i>in odore di nozze </i>(so close getting married that </div>
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the excitement is palpable) can accomplish.</div>
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Along the lines of Tyrone Power in Rome and Grace Kelley in Montecarlo.</div>
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For a day, we had George Clooney, and high hopes...</div>
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<i>Reporting live from Beautiful Florence</i></div>
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<i> -- Rosanna</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-90712855353615249502014-08-11T08:37:00.001-07:002017-01-01T09:42:56.772-08:00Tuscan Summer Herbs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_dxG2AnqqXGHLV0_kYcAT8i4NlzHK5CaiDNi4k8DwdXJDgMM231b5sBwJNOQ-M_0FY7iCPbIFY-QJEyocSExtTMkgUTZ71vrdwfsKJo5vuovPSyQQnjliLHtKBYEFtv7g6i3wWBp5m4/s1600/IMG_0967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_dxG2AnqqXGHLV0_kYcAT8i4NlzHK5CaiDNi4k8DwdXJDgMM231b5sBwJNOQ-M_0FY7iCPbIFY-QJEyocSExtTMkgUTZ71vrdwfsKJo5vuovPSyQQnjliLHtKBYEFtv7g6i3wWBp5m4/s1600/IMG_0967.JPG" width="295" /></a></div>
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Despite all the rain of this unusually wet Tuscan summer, the heat has finally arrived.</div>
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While traditional Tuscan crops, from grain to grapes, have suffered damage from the unusual humidity, the herbs that add color and perfume to the Tuscan landscape, have thrived.</div>
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One of these is the ubiquitous Tuscan lavender plant (above).</div>
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While traditionally used in making scented sachets to add to drawers of clothing,</div>
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a cottage industry in the area produces essential oil from the local lavender. Added to bath water, it is calming and soothing, reputedly acting as a sedative.<br />
I can attest that it works.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDBHtmg-XIC-j6ZqYL-mxQOTiJe_h1859ULtONndwFBSmQrPMHQLHarRzIY4j3Z2m7gLI1PyKJdwLt78R0x9ixwEUdSYF2DvVmQEPPKA5oYlBLndwh3s_BBCqwX25LhY0WLF_oZoWy8M/s1600/IMG_0970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDBHtmg-XIC-j6ZqYL-mxQOTiJe_h1859ULtONndwFBSmQrPMHQLHarRzIY4j3Z2m7gLI1PyKJdwLt78R0x9ixwEUdSYF2DvVmQEPPKA5oYlBLndwh3s_BBCqwX25LhY0WLF_oZoWy8M/s1600/IMG_0970.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Lavender flowers gathered is also used in a time-honored recipe<br />
<i>l'aceto dei setti ladri, </i>which is still sold in Florence.<br />
Composed of camphor, garlic, mint, cinnamon, cloves, absinthe placed in alcohol.<br />
<i>l'aceto dei setti ladri </i>is a popular folk remedy thought to ward off as well as treat many maladies.<br />
The name, "the vinegar of the seven thieves," comes from the fact that burglars in medieval Florence came up with the concoction, which saved them from the plague, or Black Death, allowing them to work undisturbed.<br />
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Today, lavender bushes in the Tuscan landscape as pictured above, attract not thieves but beautiful multi-colored butterflies and bees who feed on the flower nectar.<br />
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By the way, basil is not a traditional part of the Tuscan summerscape. Generally grown in pots here to be snipped and added to tomato & mozzarella salad (with Tuscan olive oil of course),<br />
the herb is strongly identified with the neighboring region<br />
of Liguria, the kingdom of pesto.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuXQRYFvtLqPga3Em6AyxWSlLIFckvA6nF3WGZNksSvIcCLQvPkwIOBVOeFvb6vz_3KUWPKuyjIX3eI5xpT0jAtgdGiVf2ZQcULbMJenyMLhtVVDl_zbKkUc0zRNzA0wxEK2grpgQjtU/s1600/IMG_0980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuXQRYFvtLqPga3Em6AyxWSlLIFckvA6nF3WGZNksSvIcCLQvPkwIOBVOeFvb6vz_3KUWPKuyjIX3eI5xpT0jAtgdGiVf2ZQcULbMJenyMLhtVVDl_zbKkUc0zRNzA0wxEK2grpgQjtU/s1600/IMG_0980.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
A another friend on the summer Tuscan herb landscape is rosemary (above).<br />
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It, too, is an ingredient in the <i>l'aceto dei setti ladri. </i>Growing to bush size when found outdoor and not in a pot in my terrace, small branches of rosemary is utilized to flavor roasts of delicious Tuscan meat.<br />
<br />
Rosemary also is prized for its anti-oxidant proprieties, great for skin care, and in combating memory loss and the possible onset of Alzeheimer's disease. <br />
Well, Tuscans, even seniors, have naturally smooth skin and few wrinkles<br />
(keep in mind that plastic surgery is uncommon here),<br />
and in all my time here, have never heard of anyone suffering from<br />
Alzeheimers. Lifestyle? Diet? Who knows.<br />
Both are healthy, and incorporate herbs.</div>
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<br />
Below is a photo of Tuscan sage growing in the wild.<br />
Again part of the recipe of the <i>l'aceto dei setti ladri,</i><br />
(still sold in the Santa Maria Novella pharmacy as a remedy for feeling faint), the herb's best known use in the Tuscan kitchen is in a dish of hot ricotta and spinach ravioli,<br />
sauced with the customary melted butter and sage leaves.<br />
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Sage is chopped up to add to meat stuffing, while a popular Tuscan antipasto is composed of just-fried, tender sage leaves.<br />
<br />
While tramping through Tuscan fields, I came across a snail shell. Unlike the French,<br />
the Tuscans do not eat snails, and shudder at the thought, although there are plenty of them around as close as the backyard.<br />
<br />
The snail had done a good thing to take refuge in a cool, shaded underbrush, away from the blazing Tuscan heat and light so dear to fields of sunflowers.<br />
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I found the snail shell to be poetic. It also reminded that, under <i>il sole leone </i>(the August sun of Leo), one does best to slow down and seek shade, and get away from the daily routine...<br />
The spiral symbolizes to me life (someone said, "life and energy move in a spiral"), but above all eternity represented by continuity, day in and day out, year after year.<br />
<br />
Speaking of continuity, summer is also tax time in Italy. While on my way to to visit an accountant who prepares all my returns, while crossing the intersection at Piazza Beccaria in Florence to get to<br />
Via Scaloia, I found<br />
landscapers cutting the lavender in neighboring city flower beds.<br />
On my way back, I joined passersby -- all women -- in gathering some of it.<br />
"Why are you doing this?," I asked the gardeners, who smiled and informed me that the lavender plant needs a good pruning in order to flower next year.<br />
<br />
I rescued some fragrant lavender to bring to the office. The first picture is of a clump of flowers against the ubiquitous yellow plaster<i> intonaco </i>of the office courtyard located in Borgo degli Albizi. The second is some more in a vase, again in the courtyard, taken on an ancient doorstep and old door which happens to be the entrance to premises of an avant-garde arts festival.<br />
<br />
The vase is of gold-flecked Murano glass, which I happened to buy in the Galluzzo market many years ago for 30,000 lire (15 euro)!<br />
<br />
What I love best about life here is the timelessness<br />
which is priceless<br />
(or costs very little).<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>reporting live from beautiful Tuscany</i><br />
-- Rosanna<br />
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Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-68424921687392468162014-05-08T07:21:00.001-07:002014-05-12T09:24:53.666-07:00A Girl and A Man with a Pearl Earring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Art lover and bon vivant Rita Kungel accompanied your <i>Beautiful Florence </i>blogger to nearby Bologna (1/2 hour from Florence by train) to visit Vermeer's <i>Girl with a Pearl Earring. </i>The signature work of this Dutch artist, who lived during the 1600s and lived only to the age of 43, is on loan in Emilia Romagna through May 25 from the Mauritshuis museum in the Hague,<br />
currently closed for restoration. </div>
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During our adventure, which continued in Florence, we found three more period paintings featuring subjects -- both female and male -- wearing earrings, and some little-known facts about their iconic forerunner, the original, luminous <i>Girl.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
At the press conference, curators told the audience that "99% sure" that the <i>Girl </i>was a figment of Vermeer's imagination. After all, he and his wife had at least a dozen children, and apart<br />
from earning a living as an artist,<br />
perhaps Vermeer needed to go off and paint as a respite from the cares of daily life.<br />
Who knows? Art historians hold, however, that the <i>Girl with a Pearl Earring </i>is an example of the<br />
"tronie" genre diffuse in Holland during this period. A "tronie" is defined as a painted head or bust of an imaginary figure often wearing exotic costume."<br />
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The exhibition in Bologna also displays pieces by Vermeer's contemporaries, including Rembrandt, who is represented by another "tronie," a painted head of an imaginary sitter, also wearing an earring.<br />
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The ornament in Rembrandt's depiction is identified as a horn-shaped earring.<br />
Notice Rembrandt's masterly use of light and shadow.</div>
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In the title of this post, I did promise the gentle reader a man with a pearl earring.</div>
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I did find one, but once back in Florence.</div>
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But before Rita and I left the press preview, we came across yet another<br />
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woman with a pearl earring exhibited at the Bologna show.</div>
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She is the subject of "Woman Writing a Letter," by another of Vermeer's fellow artists,</div>
Gerard ter Borch (1617-1681). The catalogue explains that during this period Holland was the most literate society in Europe and because the woman is young and attractive, it is supposed that she is writing a love letter (with a quill pen!)<br />
<br />
Another fact that was revealed to journalists is that pearls during this era were freshwater, and that large pearls were often made of Venetian glass and painted. Whether this was the case with the <i>Girl</i><br />
and "Woman Writing a Letter," I personally like to believe it was not -- and that the pearl is real.<br />
After all, thanks to Vemeer's timeless poetic realism, one would almost expect the Vermeer's <i>Girl </i>to<br />
step out of the canvas and draw a breath...<br />
<br />
Though her rarely left his home in Delft, Vermeer's masterful style, even during his lifetime, proved to be far-reaching, down to Italy, influencing the Florentine Baroque artist<br />
Alessandro Rosi (1627-1707).<br />
<br />
How did we find Florence's male counterpart to the <i>Girl with a Pearl Earring?</i><br />
Sipping an espresso in a café close to the office one day, I perused a local paper and found an article on an acquisition by the renowned, local antique dealer Giovanni Pratesi.<br />
<br />
I have known Sig. Pratesi for many years, since he became the head of<br />
Florence's prestigious Antiques Biennale.<br />
I originally met him in 2001 when I wrote about a Michelangelo drawing belonging to a collection in England on display and <i>on sale </i>at the Antiques Biennale for the International Herald Tribune<br />
(now the New York Times International).<br />
. Sig. Pratesi has a propitious, time-honored custom of purchasing a work for New Year's, as recorded below by <i>Beautiful Florence <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">faithful </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">blog photographer Kori Endo</span></i>. This year he went to Padua to identify and buy Rosi's<br />
<i>Man with a Pearl Earring. </i><br />
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Yes, it is pearl earring he is wearing, but he is not an imaginary figure.<br />
Thanks to his fancy dress, the young man is believed to be the paramour of<br />
Antonio de' Medici, a married man and father.<br />
Antonio, who lived in the shadow of his own powerful father, was the son of Florence's ruler<br />
Francesco de' Medici and his second wife, Bianca Cappello, but born before their marriage.<br />
Francesco and Bianca came to a bad end at the Medici villa Poggio a Caiano, both poisoned by his son by his first marriage, who succeeded him.<br />
<br />
When I asked Sig. Pratesi why he bought the painting, he responded:<br />
"<i>la bellezza era un motivo valido"</i><br />
(its beauty was reason enough). He told me that a pearl was at that time identified with aristocracy in Florence, hence the Medici connection.<br />
<br />
The young man's pearl, however, is as dark as his story--that of a love slave--<br />
The Man with a Pearl Earring, was, and even now, is for sale.<br />
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A marked contrast to the idealized and light-filled Girl and her Pearl.<br />
She just <i>is.</i><br />
<br />
Even now, during her Italian sojourn,<br />
she currently attracts 3,000 paying visitors a day--5,000 on Sunday.<br />
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reporting on assignment from <i>Beautiful Florence</i><br />
<i> -- Rosanna</i></div>
Rosannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07954249748429308093noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2249533786108947345.post-54724220931218715492014-04-05T12:54:00.002-07:002019-03-10T07:49:40.631-07:00The Camellia Towns--Pieve & Sant'Andrea di Compito<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKY1Eumh2ihbRJlD6NDpFZBDWzKBuu7VGiZfBJ33cyl3MgTsRr0cSIeHZGX7QnAn45E__pvpEGPSykJJCoHd5pcfaVZyrrlOxr5Nqw6FCDfIa9WdNkQ3R2YTuLWkrHuHwtOGPlgsmC10/s1600/IMG_2002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Dear readers--<i>Beautiful Florence is </i>back.</div>
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After a long winter, burrowed in working on Magenta Publishing's soon-to-launched new web site,</div>
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updating our English-language column on Florence's La Repubblica web site, looking ahead to the publication of <i>Vista </i>magazine, and a trip to visit my Italo-Argentinian cousin Alejandro in Barcelona</div>
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your less-than-faithful blog team discovered beauty once again.</div>
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<i>Vista </i>staff writer Rita Kungel, myself and faithful <i>Beautiful Florence </i>blog photographer Kori Endo ventured to the hills above Lucca to visit the Antique Camellia Festival.</div>
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I would like to dedicate this post to my late mother, Vittoria Palmina, whose birthday is today,</div>
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April 5. She was born near Monte Pollino in a small hill town much like the ones we were heading to visit. In fact, ours was a trip back in time.<br />
Winding around the curves up the hills of Tuscany to our destination, Rita at the driver's wheel, suddenly said, "Look, donkeys!"<br />
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We met Gina (above) and her caregiver Giovanni next to a Tuscan stone farmhouse.<br />
Giovanni remembers when the donkey was a work animal and a means of transport, as familiar with this past reality as I know my mother was. Close to Gina was her son Zurigo (Zurich). Why the name? Giovanni revealed that he had 17 donkeys in all, many of them named for Swiss towns in honor of his brother who emigrated to Bern.<br />
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We went down to a pasture to see the rest, who were having breakfast.<br />
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Giovanni remembers when the donkey was a work animal and means of transport on the farm, surely as my mother had. But what prompted him today to provide a home for a multitude of donkeys as well as a pregnant pony? "They're so docile," he revealed. Even at mealtime.<br />
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Continuing on our way, close to the entrance to the Camellia Towns we found a brook, the Visona.<br />
The gurgling sound reminded me of the brook I grew up next to in the village of<br />
Highland Falls, New York.<br />
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The cool, clear water in these parts is one reason why the camellia thrives in this part of Tuscany.<br />
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That and the clean air, and an elevated habitat not far from the sea,</div>
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hence temperate, yet sheltered by mountains.</div>
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From medieval times to the Renaissance, silk was spun into textiles in the city below, Lucca. Merchants had a thriving business in the Orient, eventually importing camellias for their homes and villas in the 1800s. The plants would find their ideal home in the surrounding hills.<br />
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Yet their origin was clearly visible in the scientific display that opens the Camellia Festival: the genus and species was labeled <i>Camellia Japonica.</i><br />
Our Japanese-American photographer, Kori Endo, remarked,<br />
"It's a long way from home."<br />
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Back outside, everywhere we looked,<br />
camellias lined the side of the road,<br />
which were filled--by not overcrowded--with hikers stopping to photograph.<br />
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Around a bend, we saw the medieval town of Sant'Andrea di Compito (below).<br />
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Settled by the Lombards, Germanic invaders who arrived before the year 1000, Sant' Andrea<br />
and neighboring<br />
Pieve di Compito passed under the domination of Lucca.<br />
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The tower is a watchtower; a<br />
bonfire would be lit to signal the<br />
powers-that-were<br />
in Lucca.<br />
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Like many medieval settlements in Tuscany, spaces inside would be remodeled over the centuries. In the case of Sant'Andrea, the church acquired a Baroque interior (right).</div>
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Once inside, we discovered a shrine dedicated to St. Rocco, who also happens to be the patron saint of my mother's town, San Giorgio Lucano, in the hills of the province of Matera.<br />
St. Rocco was immediately identifiable by his staff and the shells pinned on his mantle.<br />
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In fact, the villages are located on an ancient pilgrim road--even older than the via Francigiana--<br />
called the via di San Colombano. I am sure that donkeys have trodden these trails...<br />
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Walking down,<br />
we saw a sign advertising the sale of tea.<br />
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Little did we know-- at least up to now-- that the world's tea is derived from the leaves of camellia plants.<br />
A local plantation has an annual production of 12 kilos (26 lbs) of green, prize-winning oolong and black tea--we drank a cup at Villa Borri.<br />
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Our next stop was another villa called Torregrosso (big tower), which I'm existed at one time.</div>
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Now it is a historical home (right) still inhabited in summertime. </div>
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The generous owners had the door open to visitors; no entry fee.<br />
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As beautiful as the house was, with it period furnishings, a treat<br />
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awaited us in the garden: the oldest camellia in </div>
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Sant'Andrea del Compito (above), planted by family ancestors in the second half of the 1800s. </div>
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There was yet more to explore in the Camellia Towns. Our last stop was a Camellia nature reserve.</div>
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Next to our old acquaintance, the Visona brook, are over 1000 camellia plants, trails and picnic areas.</div>
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Areas of the reserve are poetically designated for Tuscan composers such as Mascagni and Puccini, although they have never visited.</div>
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With the sun shining on an early spring day, we were as happy as this bee nestled in the heart<br />
of a camellia</div>
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and our hopes for the future as shiny as this camellia below.</div>
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After all,<br />
it is is <i>finally</i> spring.<br />
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Reporting live in Tuscany for<br />
<i>Beautiful Florence -- </i>Rosanna<br />
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