It's a grey miserable day - ideal for a spot more culture and I decide on the Basilica di San Lorenzo. I can't believe I haven't noticed it before, but I love the fact that I am still discovering Florence after several weeks. I have been careful not to visit all the tourist sights simply to put a tick in a box and 'do Florence' - the last thing I want to get is blase about priceless works of Renaissance art.
On the way home I stumble across an art gallery where I bought a picture on my first visit to Florence, in another lifetime. I am melancholy. The sight of the girl with sad eyes reflected in the glass takes me by surprise.
The emotional beating is exhausting. Combined with the morning's walk, I am physically and mentally worn out and Dolores swiftly threatens a migraine.
I quickly consume food and drugs and head to bed with that stalwart comfort Radio 4.
Katy
(R is for Relax, Take it Easy - Mika)
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Q is for question
I head back to the Cathedral this Sunday.
The gospel preaches that if you are rich in this life, you will be poor in the next; if you laugh in this life you will be miserable in the next and on..
I can't help questioning, if this law of opposites applies, does this mean I will be financially comfortable, pain free and rather happy if I make it past the pearly gates?
Katy
(Q is for Quiereme Otra Vez - F3R Delgado & Rafa Gas)
The gospel preaches that if you are rich in this life, you will be poor in the next; if you laugh in this life you will be miserable in the next and on..
I can't help questioning, if this law of opposites applies, does this mean I will be financially comfortable, pain free and rather happy if I make it past the pearly gates?
Katy
(Q is for Quiereme Otra Vez - F3R Delgado & Rafa Gas)
P is for pacing
There is a young lady called Kate
whose body is troubled by aches
but try as she might
she can't put it right
despite all the pills that she takes
Katy
(P is for Pina - Metro Area)
whose body is troubled by aches
but try as she might
she can't put it right
despite all the pills that she takes
Katy
(P is for Pina - Metro Area)
O is for ordinary
I wake up and immediately I am in a beat-myself up kind of mood.
I head out to the local for a shot of caffeine. The portly, bearded and thoroughly jolly bartender writes 'ciao bella' in chocolate in the froth of my cappuccino and cracks a smile on my serious face.
It's amazing how such a small gesture can make you feel better, can make your day better. Smile at a stranger. One a day. Doctor's orders.
Katy
(O is for Only this moment - Royksopp)
I head out to the local for a shot of caffeine. The portly, bearded and thoroughly jolly bartender writes 'ciao bella' in chocolate in the froth of my cappuccino and cracks a smile on my serious face.
It's amazing how such a small gesture can make you feel better, can make your day better. Smile at a stranger. One a day. Doctor's orders.
Katy
(O is for Only this moment - Royksopp)
Sunday, February 11, 2007
N is for numb
The sun is back and it's a beautiful clear morning. I ask for my dreadful coffee to be delivered early this morning so that I can go out and get some shots.
Sadly clear weather and decent shots can mean only one thing... I'm going to have to climb the bell tower. Doors don't open until 10am so I take a last look at the cathedral whilst listening to the Kyrie of Mozart's Requiem to properly put the fear of God into me.
No more putting it off, I have to face up to the cold, numbing fear that height envelops me in. The tower is SO narrow that all bags, including my camera bag, have to be left behind in lockers. As I begin to climb I grimly note the panic buttons interspersed along the walls. The climb is extremely narrow, only wide enough for one person save a squeeze past in the stairwells as the stairs wind forever upward. The ceiling is also narrow and I have to duck in places. The only way I can overcome my fear of heights is to put my head down, focus on each step and walk quickly. I have used this method on several bell towers previously. In fact, if speed climbing bell towers were an Olympic sport, I think I would be getting the call for 2012. However, two years of doing no exercise is beginning to tell, and I have to stop a couple of times panting for breath and feeling slightly nauseous. The tower finally opens out at the enormous bell and I think that I must have made it but it keeps on ascending via what can only be described as a wooden ladder. Part of my fear of this type of height is that (despite the fact that it has been standing for several hundred years) today is the particular day the structure will come tumbling down and me with it. The rational part of me can reason with my fear to a point, and the wooden staircase was rationale and a staircase too far. I manage one set of wooden stairs, no stone around me I can clearly see the ground hundreds of feet below. Legs shaking and feeling dizzy I stand on the next platform to see another staircase twisting away above me. I take some pictures before my shaking hands make it impossible and decide that enough is enough... I have seen the view from, not the top, but a very,very long way up - and that's enough for me.
Sadly clear weather and decent shots can mean only one thing... I'm going to have to climb the bell tower. Doors don't open until 10am so I take a last look at the cathedral whilst listening to the Kyrie of Mozart's Requiem to properly put the fear of God into me.
No more putting it off, I have to face up to the cold, numbing fear that height envelops me in. The tower is SO narrow that all bags, including my camera bag, have to be left behind in lockers. As I begin to climb I grimly note the panic buttons interspersed along the walls. The climb is extremely narrow, only wide enough for one person save a squeeze past in the stairwells as the stairs wind forever upward. The ceiling is also narrow and I have to duck in places. The only way I can overcome my fear of heights is to put my head down, focus on each step and walk quickly. I have used this method on several bell towers previously. In fact, if speed climbing bell towers were an Olympic sport, I think I would be getting the call for 2012. However, two years of doing no exercise is beginning to tell, and I have to stop a couple of times panting for breath and feeling slightly nauseous. The tower finally opens out at the enormous bell and I think that I must have made it but it keeps on ascending via what can only be described as a wooden ladder. Part of my fear of this type of height is that (despite the fact that it has been standing for several hundred years) today is the particular day the structure will come tumbling down and me with it. The rational part of me can reason with my fear to a point, and the wooden staircase was rationale and a staircase too far. I manage one set of wooden stairs, no stone around me I can clearly see the ground hundreds of feet below. Legs shaking and feeling dizzy I stand on the next platform to see another staircase twisting away above me. I take some pictures before my shaking hands make it impossible and decide that enough is enough... I have seen the view from, not the top, but a very,very long way up - and that's enough for me.
Back in Florence and by afternoon Dolores is kicking me in the back and plucking at the nerves which trigger my gag reflex. A hot bath (luxury!) calms her slightly but by evening she's back. I manage to bolt some food down before I feel too sick and then reach for one (and sometimes two) of every one of my painkillers and head for bed.
I sleep with the aid of Radio 4 and Prince Valium.
Katy
(N is for Never Forget - Take That. Remember - you're not invincible).
Friday, February 9, 2007
M is for moved
Although the prospect of breakfast served in my room is rather luxurious, it turns out to be the worst cup of coffee I've had in Italy. The situation is not improved when I try and order a cup in Nannini - the waitress obviously doesn't hear me say "cafe", just "latte" and I end up with a glass of warm milk.
I head up to the stadium where the Lonely Planet informs me there is a Wednesday market, but it's just an enormous collection of nasty cheap clothes and general tat.
The day is dark and rainy, the first rain since I arrived, but it makes it slightly miserable and damp to wander around sightseeing.
I head to the Duomo to try and get some pictures, but sulk away after seeing any chance of getting a decent shot is destroyed by the hoards of oriental tourists all obediently following upheld umbrellas.
It's too misty to climb the bell tower (thank heaven) so I decide on the shrine of Santa Caterina. Although one of Italy's favourite saints it's clearly not with the tourists today and I have the place to myself.
As I enter the chapel I am stopped dead in my tracks and my eyes brim with the kind of tears that absolute beauty brings. I am moved to my core and I stand open mouthed gazing at my surroundings. It's a small chapel covered with beautiful frescoes and artwork. My brains first impression is of colour; gold and blue. I have an overwhelming feeling of goodness, serenity and grace. I get on my knees in front of the altar, it seems the only thing to do. I leave with not so much an image, but a feeling. Reassured? Protected? The cynic in me notes the gift shop on the way out.
I continue up the hill to San Domenico - Santa Caterina's church. Although the body of Caterina is in Rome, in line with the practice of preserving relics of the dead, her head is in a tabernacle above the altar. Not much thanks for flogging yourself.
I spend an age looking for one of the restaurant's recommended in LP, but it's like trying to find Platform nine and three quarters and I settle on somewhere nearer to my B&B. Although I order my first glass of Chianti I'm paranoid I can hear Dolores laughing that it will trigger a migraine and I leave it after a couple of sips.
I finally make it into the Cathedral in the afternoon. It truly is the most amazing piece of architecture I have ever seen. It overwhelms the senses once inside and it's impossible to take in every detail. It's built from black and white striped marble - a huge stick of godly rock. Every available surface is used - mosaics on the floors, pictures on the walls and ceilings, gold leaf, cherubs, angels, gargoyles, lions, saints, bishops, Christ, Mary and an amazing Gothic pulpit which towers over the congregation. It's a building to be experienced. I feel so small and insignificant. It's an amazing piece of human achievement.
I head up to the stadium where the Lonely Planet informs me there is a Wednesday market, but it's just an enormous collection of nasty cheap clothes and general tat.
The day is dark and rainy, the first rain since I arrived, but it makes it slightly miserable and damp to wander around sightseeing.
I head to the Duomo to try and get some pictures, but sulk away after seeing any chance of getting a decent shot is destroyed by the hoards of oriental tourists all obediently following upheld umbrellas.
It's too misty to climb the bell tower (thank heaven) so I decide on the shrine of Santa Caterina. Although one of Italy's favourite saints it's clearly not with the tourists today and I have the place to myself.
As I enter the chapel I am stopped dead in my tracks and my eyes brim with the kind of tears that absolute beauty brings. I am moved to my core and I stand open mouthed gazing at my surroundings. It's a small chapel covered with beautiful frescoes and artwork. My brains first impression is of colour; gold and blue. I have an overwhelming feeling of goodness, serenity and grace. I get on my knees in front of the altar, it seems the only thing to do. I leave with not so much an image, but a feeling. Reassured? Protected? The cynic in me notes the gift shop on the way out.
I continue up the hill to San Domenico - Santa Caterina's church. Although the body of Caterina is in Rome, in line with the practice of preserving relics of the dead, her head is in a tabernacle above the altar. Not much thanks for flogging yourself.
I spend an age looking for one of the restaurant's recommended in LP, but it's like trying to find Platform nine and three quarters and I settle on somewhere nearer to my B&B. Although I order my first glass of Chianti I'm paranoid I can hear Dolores laughing that it will trigger a migraine and I leave it after a couple of sips.
I finally make it into the Cathedral in the afternoon. It truly is the most amazing piece of architecture I have ever seen. It overwhelms the senses once inside and it's impossible to take in every detail. It's built from black and white striped marble - a huge stick of godly rock. Every available surface is used - mosaics on the floors, pictures on the walls and ceilings, gold leaf, cherubs, angels, gargoyles, lions, saints, bishops, Christ, Mary and an amazing Gothic pulpit which towers over the congregation. It's a building to be experienced. I feel so small and insignificant. It's an amazing piece of human achievement.
By now it's after five o'clock and Dolores is whinging that it's been a long day. She doesn't want to go out again, especially as it's now dark as well as cold. I am frustrated to the point of tears that we have failed to eat out on our mini-break, but all the same I do as she asks and we are back in our room eating pizza by seven.
Katy
(M is for Multiply - Jamie Liddel, here's to going under with a smile)
L is for leaving
...Florence for Sienna that is.
We called in the door staff first thing this morning to close down last night's pity party and it's off to Sienna.
This time I manage to get not only the right bus, but going in the correct direction and arrive safely at my B&B in a 'restored' palazzo. Restored it may be, but a few renovation works would not have gone amiss. However, the peeling plaster on the vaulted ceiling has a certain charm about it and all is forgiven when I open balcony doors looking out over red rooftops.
I unpack and wander out to orientate myself. I have coffee and gooey chocolate cake at Nannini and find a bookshop which stocks English books and newspapers on the walk back. What else can I buy but Room with a View, which I sit reading on my balcony whilst eating lunch.
I had planned to go and photograph the Duomo and have an evening meal out, but Dolores disagrees. I venture out to stock up on water, grab a slice of pizza and an ice cream and slink back to my room to put on pyjamas.
Although I'm tired, just as I'm falling asleep the couple in the adjoining room return and the bed creaks punctuated by grunts raises my consciousness. As if that's not bad enough, he falls into a deep post coital slumber evidenced by loud snoring, leaving me wide awake for the rest of the night.
Katy
(L is for La Ritournelle - Sebastien Tellier)
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