Nov 19 2011 Saturday Firenze, Fisole, Trespiano

I only woke up because I set the alarm for 10 am. It's Saturday and I really need to be on my way. I organized my room, got myself ready for the day, ate the delicious fig tart I bought in Paris with cold milk from my window sill and I was out the door at 11.30.

Alessio stopped me to give me maps and train schedules he had printed out for my planned trip to Perugia on Monday. He also had a Google map of Fiesole and its cemetery.

It was a nice sunny cold day today. I wore my long black coat, purple beret and purple stripped silk scarf. This trip I wore jeans to travel in, but I only brought two skirts, one dress, leggings and 8 tops to layer as needed for cold weather.

I walked toward Piazza San Marco, carrying only my shoulder purse and a plastic bag containing the pot of Hyacinths. I had an idea. Leo had wanted to buy me something special at a jewelry shop in the area. I really have felt his spirit close by for these last two months. There have been some unfinished emotional issues here with the living.

I stopped at window if the jewelers to see if anything looked affordable. Leo and I had stopped in at this Florentine shop several times together. They knew him by name.

Oh so many lovely items. Simple but elegant and expensive. This is not a tourist shop. One has to be buzzed in for entry. Several local citizens were welcomed in by name as I looked in the windows.

I didn't see anything I could afford. I looked again. Something was here for me, I just needed to see it. Diamonds, a little voice which sounded like Leo, whispered. Pearls, I thought. No, look at those diamonds, there in the corner. And then I found Leo's gift. They were perfect. The price was right. I still had an envelope of a little money he had given me last year to cover his expenses in the US.

I couldn't decide really on two different pairs of diamond ear rings. At that point, the door opened and the jeweler with whom I was familiar, opened the door and said 'Mi dica?' ( may I help you?).

With his key, he opened the window and pulled out both pairs of earrings for me. As he put them on the counter, I knew which ones Leo would have picked. I asked the jeweler which one he liked...I was right. He choose those too.

I had already reached into my purse and pulled out a xerox copy of Leo's obituary. It was faced down in the counter. I said, I brought this for you. It's sad news.

As I was getting out the cash to pay, he asked if he could turn the paper over. I said, yes. He made a sigh as he read the heading and looked up at me and said, ' I knew him.'
I replied, 'Yes, I know. I brought this for you and the others here in the shop.'

He reached for my money and handed me back a large bill with a small smile. I said thank you, this is his last gift to me.

'Would you like it wrapped?' he asked.

'Yes, please. I'm taking it to the cemetery now.'

He carefully wrapped the box and tied it with a golden ribbon. After he handed it to me, he took my hand and said 'condoglianze' (condolences).

I made my way to Piazza San Marco and walked the circle looking for the stop for Bus 7. This area is a hub for various lines. It's also the capolinea or end of the line for Bus 7 which goes to and from Fiesole.

It was 1.00 when we arrived at Fiesole. The trip takes about 20 minutes. A little mercato was just closing down in the piazza. I asked a vendor for walking directions to cemetery.

As I made the 10 minute walk up the hill I began to suspect this was the wrong cemetery. This was not the place Leo and I had visited five years ago. Two gypsies sat on the steps with their cup for donations. I did not take their picture.

This cemetery was very old, very very small and deserted. But, just to be sure, I looked. Each tomb was numbered. I turned on my iPhone and tried to Google 'Trespiano Cemetery'. Fiesole kept showing up, incorrectly.

I decided it was best to ask someone local. I walked back down the hill and stepped into a shop and tried with my best effort Italian.

I'm finding it very easy to understand. It's the speaking which is difficult. A poor accent and the wrong phrasing, makes people's brows furrow as they try to understand me. This nice commessa understood exactly what had happened. I was indeed at the wrong place. She explained I should take the bus back down to Piazza San Marco and look for the bus to Trespiano. She didn't know the bus number, but thought it was at the same bus stop. I thanked her!

Across the piazza I could see Bus 7, sitting and I hurried to it. His engines were off, taking a pause here at the end of the line. He told me 25 was the bus for Trespiano. While riding back, a bus inspector boarded the bus and asked to check tickets. This was the first time for me. Luckily I had my double stamped ticket right inside my coat pocket. Each ticket is good for 70 minutes. I worried for a moment, because I had only guessed I was within the time limit. He smiled and returned my ticket. Note to self: check the time before I reuse another ticket !

I road the bus back to Firenze and the commessa was right. Bus 7 and Bus 25 shared the same stop. After a short wait, I was in transit again. I discovered this Bus 25 goes through Piazza del Libertà and up the hill past the gardens with the huge glass green house, Girardino dell'Orticultura. I need to return here.

When we arrived in Trespiano I recognized it as the place Leo and I had visited his parent's graves. I stopped in at the flower shop and bought fresh Sweet Williams for Leo's mother.

 

I crossed the busy street and walked down a lane bordered by cypress trees.

At the cemetery office I stopped for a map and directions to both Leo and his mother. The woman there was impatient with my Italian and my lack of information about Leo's mother's date of birth. She kept asking me, was she born before or after the turn of the century. My American mind was thinking, please just look in both drawers.

My Italian mind was busy adding and subtracting with a pen on the map. If Leo was born in 1945, and his mother even if she had been a little old, she would have been born after 1900. Ok! I answered, it's after 1900. Success! I left the office with two small address cards and one aerial map, which showed only the vaguest idea of locations. This cemetery is huge, with a little shuttle bus. I set out on foot to find Leo first. I knew where to find his mother.

I walked and walked for over an hour. Tomb numbers are not unique, but repeated in different sections. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and I was getting tired as I walked up and down stairs and round and round aisles. It was then that I saw the tractors and workers in a new area being constructed. I walked below their fenced area, across grass, not soggy, thank goodness. From the grass I spotted Leo's name on a bank of new marble crypts. I was off the official path so I got a foothold in the dirt incline and climbed up.

I tried not to feel anger. I was undeterred. Just accept it. There is no flower holder. All the others have flower holders and or lights and a picture. But here I am with flowers. There was certainly no place to leave the Hyacinths. Leo always loved my can-do attitude. I found a solution. The Sweet Williams were the perfect flower. With their firm stems, I pulled them apart and one by one I stuck them into the top crack of his marble name plate. They looked wonderful! I took a picture. That crack was my friend. I dropped in something special I had brought with me. No one can see it. It's another one of our secrets.

I opened my earrings and put them on. I had a little talk with Leo and then kissed him goodbye. I'll be back in the future, again and again with flowers.

It was 4.00 and the sun was starting to set. His mother's tomb is located at the very top of the cemetery, surrounded by two angels. I quickly made my way up the hill and then up several flights of ancient stairs. The Hyacinths fit nicely on the ledge. I took some pictures of the two angels on her family crypt.

As I left the cemetery, I passed four people and priest just entering what I think was a small chapel for a service. A hearse was parked outside. One can feel the cultural differences here.

I walked back to the hotel from Piazza San Marco, stopping in at La Feltrinelli bookstore and then their music store. I bought audio books, soft bound books and DVDs from my shopping list. Everything was 15% off on sale.

I stopped in Piazza della Republica where the season's freshly pressed olive oil was being sold direct from the farmers. I tasted my way through the show, sampling cheese and oil on small cubes of Tuscan bread. So yummy. I bought 5 tins of olive oil to take home plus a small round of fresh cheese, which I will store on my window ledge. I'll eat it this week.

I went back to the hotel and left everything in my room and starving, went to my favorite restaurant for ravioli. It was 7pm.

By 8 I was in for the night but then I realized my violet beret was not on my head. I had thought it was in my purse, but after dumping its contents, it was not there. I retraced my steps to the music shop, which is now closed until Monday at 9.30 and I will be in Perugia all day. Peccato! My beret is gone.

I returned back to the hotel, telling myself, this is what happens when I'm dead tired with jet lag.

I went straight to bed with a new book, by Michele Giuttari, former head of the Florentine police. (A Death in Calabria)

It wasn't hard to fall asleep at 9.15. I slept for eleven hours.