Harlequin's journal

My other half and I spent five nights in Florence, Italy just before Christmas. I love Italy. I express it as me having an Italian soul (though I was born in England, of a resolutely English family, and have lived most of my life in Australia). Humble apologies to any Italians out there who think I haven't gone through the proper process of applying for Italian-soul-citizenship, or who suspect I would fail badly if I did so...

Anyway, it was one of those lucky holidays - perfect weather, good hotel, great food, things open or available when we wanted them, very few hassles or hiccups even though we have almost zero Italian, and so on. Astoundingly, we only had one queue (for the gallery containing Michelangelo's David), and that was only of a few minutes' duration!

My favourite thing was attached to the Basilica of San Lorenzo: the old library and reading room. The books themselves were no longer there of course, but there was row upon row of bench seats (like pews) with a long lecturn each, on and under which the books were kept. A catalogue hung on the end of each pew. So, you found your subject area - Greek philosophy, perhaps - found the book you wanted on the list, then slid into the seat and read it in situ. Wonderful! Even more special: off to the side was an exhibition featuring old handwritten books from the original collection of humanist Coluccio Salutati. The earliest one we saw was from the 9th C. Some were illustrated, many were annotated by Salutati. A couple still had their chains attached. Just magic! I love reading and writing, but part of that is I love the physical aspects of books. It's some kind of intellectual / tactile fetish. :-)

My second favourite thing was the Uffizi Gallery. We were there in an off-season, so avoided the vast crowds of which we'd been warned by horror stories. The artist I'm fondest of is Caravaggio - there were only three there by him, but of course it's always good to see The Real Thing. What blew me away were the paintings by Sandro Botticelli. I'm not sure if it's the effect of seeing the actual canvases, but I felt like I'd never really looked at the images before. I mean, The Birth of Venus is so familiar from all kinds of copies and cultural references. But I stood there thinking, 'My god, she is really beautiful. How can I not have known that before?' Do we just not pay attention beyond a certain point? Do we not pay attention in the first place, if an image is already ubiquitous? The Madonna of the Pomegranate was my favourite. So much there, and all so beautiful. And the graceful lines made by the arms of the three dancing women in Primavera... There's something divine about it (says the secular humanist). I had much the same reaction to the statue of David. How can it be possible that I've never looked at this before?

I wish I was an artist. But I suppose I must be content with being a writer! I think in visuals, and am often inspired by visuals - and some things I cannot convey in any other way, frustratingly enough. But most of it I can translate into words.

Slashiest thing: a statue in the Palazzo Vecchio of two burly guys wrestling naked. At least, I assume that's what they were doing... Though one of them had a hold on the other that I wouldn't have thought was generally allowed, even in professional wrestling! Very nice. :-)

There was so much to do and see. We had a wonderful time! Highly recommended...