|Americans looking for bargains at the "antique" market|
When it is hot on a Sunday and Monday, stores close, Florentines retreat to the cool indoors and the events are limited to those that attract crazy American tourists. But now I can occasionally trade my linen slacks for shorts without feeling too obvious.
Sunday we awoke to the cacophony of bells wake the city. There is a church every few hundred meters in Florence. Sunday is their day to sing out (although the pews don't seem particularly full).
|Break time at the fountain|
Antique markets are basically the same worldwide. Lots of doorknobs and old hardware, a few books and maps and a whole lot of non-antique clothing. It was fun to wander, but we dashed from shady spot to shady spot as the day grew warmer. The area around the piazza's fountain was a popular respite.
|Out in the neighborhood|
Then we did the crazy American thing -- we kept walking. And walking. We ended up in a working-class neighborhood where every shop was closed and the only sign of life was the occasional face peeking from a shuttered window. Peeking at the crazy Americans.
|Chilling at a sidewalk cafe|
|M-I-S U-R-I... no, wait|
This evening we dressed up and went to a movie. Dinner movie, as it were. The Odeon Theatre featured a mostly-English version of Il Mistero di Dante -- The Mystery of Dante. It was good, but strange. It was as if someone first produced a good PBS-style documentary on Dante and then turned it over to film students to put it into an avant-garde wrapper. But I may re-visit the Divine Comedy.
By the time we left the theater, the air had cooled and the breeze had picked up. It was a beautiful evening in Florence -- the kind that makes poets, bloggers and mature-couples-in-love swoon.