Florence

I'm pretty sure I've found the slowest computer in all of Florence.

As I said before, this is a truly fascinating city. I've seen just about every gallery, museum, and church there is to see, with only a few exceptions I intend to take care of soon.

I'll admit, standing in line for the Galleria della'Accademia, seeing all the folks ahead of me, thinking about the €9 it'll cost to get in, all just to see one statue... I had my doubts. And then I saw the David. It really is like being in the same room as a giant: you'll see him out of the corner of your eye, and something in your head says "Wait wait... that can't be right," so you stare at this titan as if -- any moment now -- he'll finally fit himself into your mindspace. But he doesn't. He's still a giant, and he's bigger than even your expectations. It was literally difficult to concentrate whenever I could just turn my head and see him. He is beautiful and powerful... and he looks like he knows it.

I've seen the works of the great Renaissance masters, but I really wish I knew more about art history so I could fully appreciate it all. I can tell they were geniuses, and well before their time, but hardcore analysis is a bit beyond me (especially while surrounded by a true throng of other tourists).

In the Basilica di Santa Croce are the monuments to some of the most influential men in all of Western history: Michaelangelo, Dante, Galileo, even Machiavelli. Dante's monument was especially awesome. He sits facing forward, grim as ever. To his right is a tall, powerful-looking woman with a starred crown and a long staff, gesturing back to him in pride... Italia herself. To Dante's left is a very sad, very beautiful woman, the upper part of her body bent over the sarcophagus with a laurel wreath in one hand... Beatrice? Are the laurels Virgil's? They are proud of this man, and they should be. Despite also being the name of a (rather awesome) pizzeria, Dante's name carries power in Florence. He loved this city so much, and suffered exile for political reasons.

And speaking of politics, the Medicis were arrogant, arrogant, powerful people. The Palazzo Vecchio, which was kinda their courtly headquarters, is jam packed with art on just about every surface possible. In the ballroom, each panel of the ceiling is a painting worthy of a museum. In another room, busts are above the doorways. I noticed one bust had a Roman look to it, and assumed it to be so, above the figure's head was the crest of the Medicis. Another bust, however, was of a man in liturgical robes, and where the crest would've been was instead the three-tiered crown of the pope, complete with the two keys of Rome. Then I saw the name on the bust... something like: "PIVS VII, JVLIAN MEDICI, FILII," and realized that -- yes -- this was one of the Medici popes. And the other Medici pope stood guard over another doorway. Seriously, these folks had everything but a painting of one man strangling the other: over the strangler's head would be a little scroll reading "US," and over the strangled man's head would be one that read "EVERYONE ELSE." But, well, we do kinda owe them for the Renaissance.

I think I'll be taking off soon, in the next few days. Valerio, Angelica, and Massimiliano -- not to mention all the other friends they've introduced me to -- have shown me wondrous levels of hospitality. Great, great people. And this whole while they've been incredibly encouraging about my quest.

Oh. And good news. I've found God again. And this time we're speaking the same language, like every good teacher should do with His student. A man named Michael helped, a friend of my Graces. After them, Michael, God, and all of Florence, I figure it's only a matter of time before I run into the Elves. I'll keep you posted.