Date: Sunday, February 26
Days Without Camera: 25
Days in Florence: 56
Days Left: 28
I was walking back home arms full of supermarket bags when I looked to my right, and there spread before me was a flea market. So naturally I rushed home, called up my friends and we descended on the market eyes curiously peering for vintage Italian finds.
The market was lovely and eclectic and everything you expect and want a flea market to be, some things gave you that sweet chill of nostalgia, other objects (like some wonderful chandeliers) made you shiver with want…until you realize you have no money and anyway no room in you luggage to haul an Art Deco abajur back home.
I managed a quick turn through the market, took some nice pictures with my trusty iPhone (I miss my cannon dearly though) and bought some beautifully bound Italian books, all before a nasty cloud poured chilly rain down on us all, and the merchants began scrambling to protect their goods.
Date: Saturday, February 25
Days Without Camera: 24
Days in Florence: 55
Days Left: 29
The last chills of winter have disappeared. In what has seemed like an overnight change, spring has descended on Firenze, the unnatural cold has been banished and the sun has been blazing a bright trail through this past week…
…and I spent it all sick in bed.
The illness that began the week before on my birthday seemed to have taken a great displeasure to muddy trek through the cold Tuscan countryside, and thus has punished me by becoming an unyielding companion through the good weather.
But not all things bad, last forever. With the weekend came a grand reprieve from my sick bed and two wonderful days spent in the sun that banished the cranky week away.
As Saturday dawned cloudy and warm, I found myself sitting on a jostling city bus going to Settignano. All we knew was there was a garden, and we had to take the number 10 bus to get there. Thus began a little adventure to first find the number 10 bus, to then hypothesize about the name of our destination, followed by arriving there and having no clue where the garden would be from the bus stop…and it didn’t help that when we finally made it to the villa that opens it’s gardens for Florentine picnickers, the gates were shut and no one would answer the doorbell.
The story has a happy ending though, the gates opened, and we found ourselves in the middle of a fairy tale, and we had it all to ourselves. Even the cloudy sky couldn’t dampen my mood, we had good food, good company and a playground that was a page from every one of my favorite tales. It was Narnia, the Secret Garden and Jane Eyre all wrapped into one stunning Tuscan villa. Every bit worth the wait in bed.