I wanted milk but settled for water and a not too sweet German pastry which resembles a cinnamon roll. It's made with raisins and thinly sliced apples and topped with a little white icing with lots of fresh walnuts.
I've been watching a gypsy girl go round and round here, aggressively shaking her cup of coins, with a pleading voice. The reactions here are mostly to ignore her. She went to a dozen tables and no one gave anything. The gypsies have competition in Firenze. There are people with dogs, musicians, artists, horribly crippled beggars, along with grandmothers who lay face down, arms outstretched in prayer, on the cold pavement. I give once or twice a day but never to the gypsies. This is their day job. I'm always intrigued by their lifestyle. How sad to be ignored daily in their interactions with non gypsies. Often, at the end of the day, I see them happily greeting their friends or gathering in groups, socializing after a day's work.
I organized my money this morning to make sure I have cash to pay for the extra bag tomorrow morning. I left the hotel at 10:00, heading toward Piazzo Santo Spirito and the morning Mercato.
I've used up my supply of bus tickets, so I stopped in at a Tobaccaio. This is the place one buys matches, tobacco products, phone cards and candy.
I bought 10 city bus tickets from a very rude man. He told me it was better to buy a combined ticket. When I explained I needed them for next Spring, he was clueless. Alessandro used to lose patience with people like this who can't seem to think outside the box. I then asked to refill my phone. He snapped at me with the names of three phone companies. Luckily I understand better than I speak. 'Vodafone per favore!' I refuse to let these unhappy people ruin my morning. I've read here that some shop people have less and less tolerance for tourists. One doesn't have to be American to be labeled as a tourist. Yesterday in her own Arezzo, Laura standing next to me, was treated like she was a tourist. We're all feeling stress these days.
Today the little morning market was setup in the piazza in front of the Santo Spirito Church. I saw the copper salesman was in town. Hurray! I'm always looking for a certain copper pan, like the antique ones Rosa and Marta have from their grandmother's country house in Strevi.
Hanging from a rack, I found a treasure. I bought an adorable antique brass handled copper cheese tool. It's round, slightly curved and covered with holes. The vendor told me it was used to remove cheese from vats. It's old. I've been carrying it all day, inside my new Gucci Museum bag.
Next, I bought a pannino sandwich of proscuito and cheese for take away at the small bar near Alessandro's university. The proprietor thanked me for the obituary I left with him last week.
I walked to Piazza San Marco and took the 25 bus up to Trespiano, location of the cemetery. I bought purple cloth flowers on Monday at the little store near my hotel which is part hardware store and mostly carries things for the home. They carry cleaning supplies, shoe polish, kitchen utensils, and nail polish, olive tree wooden spoons and cutting boards. I'm intrigued by the selection of items they sell. I think I'm recognized now because they patiently let me look around and I always buy a few items. On my list this time was a stove top bread toasting tool. This one will be a Christmas present for my son. Alessandro gave me one years ago. I use it all the time make crostini: toast bread on both sides, then place on a plate. Drizzle bread with olive oil, a pinch of salt and dried oregano.
While entering the cemetery today I notice a sign at the entrance: No dogs, no photographs, no bicycles. It won't deter me from taking pictures.
I climbed the ancient staircase up to the highest part of the cemetery and located the family crypt. I watered the hyacinth I left last week with Alessandro's mother.
Those two angels have special significance to me. From the beginning of our relationship, I had told Alessandro I felt two angels had helped to bring about our meeting. On that day, we were focused on arranging the flowers equally between his parents. When I stepped back to take a picture, I saw the two angels. Odd that Alessandro had never noticed them. It was an emotional experience for both of us.
Last week, I was all alone in this area. Today, there's a woman moving about, nearby me for a few minutes. I've seen her before, in other older sections of the cemetery. She carries a big woven basket and gathers wilted and spent flowers. She empties her basket at a trash can and moves onto another area.
I easily made my way down the stairs and then down the hill to Alessandro's marker and organized the new flowers. I pulled out my sandwich and ate it slowly, looking out over the cypress trees in the hills below. I had a little conversation with Alessandro.
An hour later, I began my walk back to the main road to catch the bus back down to Firenze.
As I walked, the sun suddenly became so bright I had to stop to get my sunglasses from my purse. I was standing still, zipping my purse closed against pickpockets, in preparation for the bus ride down. I looked down and saw these words, in Italian, near this angel.
Live
In the comfort of faith
Secure in our eternal reunion
Some non believers may think I'm slightly obsessed or have an over active romantic imagination but to me the message was clear and direct.
I caught bus 25, but decided to hop off early to see the gigantic glass green house in the public gardens (Orti del Parnaso) near Ponte Rosso. It resembles the Blue Fairy's house in Roberto Begnini's film of Pinocchio.
I first discovered this enchanted green house in a book, while browsing a book in the Casa Buonarotti bookstore. The helpful attendant told me how to find this garden. I've been here before for weekend garden shows. Today it was mostly deserted. I saw only a few people sitting on park benches. The train tracks run directly behind the park and I heard rather than saw a train whiz by.
I decided to walk back to Piazza San Marco, but I got lost and had to ask for directions twice. I need to look on a map to find Piazza Savonarola, which is where I lost my bearings.
Then suddenly, I recognized my old neighborhood, where I had stayed as a student. As soon as I found Borgo Pinti, I knew how to get to this European Christmas fair.
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I was planning on taking a porchetta sandwich back for tonight's dinner. A vendor has a big full pig roasting over coals. It's now 4.30 and it's way too early for Italians to be eating dinner. Tonight at 7.00, these stands will be deep with crowds waiting in line. I keep passing by the porchetta stand.
Finally he has some clients. They are happily speaking in German to him. I lingered, wanting to see portions, etc. I was disappointed to find he was not selling pieces off that pig on a spit. Another walk round and I saw him unpacking plastic wrapped, already sliced hams, which he placed on the grill. Disillusioned, I gave up my plans for porchetta. I bought instead a thin salami from Austria. I went back and bought another delicious cinnamon roll.
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Walking back to the hotel, I found a small grocery store, right in the tourist center. I need to remember its location. I bought milk and yummy cheese. I was set for dinner and a 4 am departure breakfast.
I really wanted to make one more stop at Edison bookstore, but at 6.30, with my bags packed, exhausted by the day, I ate my picnic dinner in my room and decided to call it a night.
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