Dessert
for Dinner
With a bus back to Florence to catch, I couldn't
stick around for the deliciously drawn out affair that is
the evening meal in Italy.
Restaurants didn't even open
up until after seven, so I selected a gelateria, and treated
myself to a triple-flavored delight.
Watching dusk creep into the
Piazza Del Campo, I lovingly ingested the sweet perfection.
As my tiny plastic spoon scraped the bottom of the wax coated
paper cup, I had a thought, almost too terrible to confess.
Before reason and prudence could
intervene, I dove back, into the maze of cobblestoned streets
behind the piazza. Locating another gelateria (for I certainly
had shame enough not to revisit the first one), I ordered
another triple.
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Attached
to Siena's cathedral, the Museum Opera del Duomo
featured statuary, paintings, religious artifacts (including
my favorite--reliquaries!) and,
most memorably, an extensive collection of illuminated manuscripts.
The many thick volumes paid silent testimony
to the patience, skill and artistry possessed by the monks,
who spent years of their lives painstakingly crafting them,
letter by letter.
First-Rate
Reliquary
The whole skeleton of this presumably holy person
is artfully arranged in this impressive container. The empty
eyes of the skull stare out from the center.
At the end of the top floor, and up two sets
of stairs, I gained access to the panorama lookout
afforded by the unfinished construction of the cathedral.
I stood for a few minutes, enjoying the view of the setting
sun. As I was turning to leave, a young couple emerged from
the narrow spiral staircase into the open air.
I felt a pang (jealousy, anger, sadness?)
as I watched them holding hands and embracing,
framed in a stone archway against the sky.
"Excuse me," I said, "I don't
mean to intrude, but if you have a camera, I would
very much like to take your picture for you--you'll want to
remember this."
At first, the abruptness of my offer appeared
to take them by surprise, but they handed over their camera,
and I snapped the shot. I smiled as I returned their
camera, giving them no clue to what I held firmly inside.
I descended the stairs, preserving the purity of
their perfect moment.
Next:
On the Move to Manarola |
