On the other hand....

Florence sponsored a celebration of Tuscan vino all weekend. For 10 euros, you got a commemorative glass and a punchcard for 12 tastes of "basic" and "riserva" wine at a handful of sites around town (Piazza Pitti, above, was the busiest).

We learned quickly to ask for the 3-year-old riserva.

A friend from Zion in town for a few days said, "This would be so popular in Utah." Then, he thought better of it: "But this would never happen in Utah."

In Utahn, Oltrarno, the neighborhood south of the river, was one big wine garden. To be fair, they stopped pouring at 9 p.m. (7 p.m. on Sunday) But the restaurants picked up where the vineyard owners left off.

Another Kind of Tabernacle

I went looking for Tabernacles today. Florence has 1,200 sacred images overhead on street corners. During times of the plague, including the Black Death in 1348, people avoided going to church. Instead, they would gather in front of these shrines, or tabernacles, to pray.

This one is "Madonna and Child between Saints Paul and Jerome," by Bicci Di Lorenzo, 1427.

Crazy Liquor Laws

I always assumed that liquor laws dreamed up by moralizing teetotalers were the specialty of politicians from Utah and a few states in the South.

But the practice has jumped the pond. The mayor of Bologna has decreed that there will be no liquor served or sold after 10 p.m. In Italy, this is the equivalent of saying there will be no beverage at dinner.

As a result, savvy entrepreneurs have started selling wine illegally on the streets after dark. And the gutters are filling up with bottles and corks...

Wonder how long it will take for his honor to admit he made a mistake?

Dead Soldiers

I've been trying to gauge popular support in Italy for the "Coalition of the Willing" fighting the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Public sentiment is flagging here, just as in the U.S. Last week, the alliance was put to the test when six Italian soldiers were killed by a suicide bomber in Afghanistan.

I expected hostility, protests... something. A state funeral and day of mourning were scheduled. The opposition called for Italy's immediate withdrawal. Others countered with the "taking the fight to them there so they don't come here" line we've all heard.

Meantime, the papers filled with the heart-wrenching stories about the men's lives--their last letters home promising to return safely and "forever," pictures of a little boy touching a casket.

Sunday, the day before the funeral, we were invited to the dedication of a marker in the mountains to commemorate the U.S. Army 34th Infantry (the Red Bulls) taking Hill 810 in September 1944 during World War II. Brent (the resident World War II buff) tells me this was significant as the Allies' first break in the Gothic Line.

We met Sylvester Singlestad, a 92-year-old veteran of the battle, his hat jingling with medals — including a Purple Heart and a 24-carat Gold Cross from Pope Pius. The guy actually went behind enemy lines and posed with an Italian partisan as a married couple to spy on the Germans. The local press mobbed him.

Seems we're all nostalgic for a simpler war.

And the hats definitely were better....

The Birds

Pigeons are protected here in Italy. If one gets caught in your window screen or you discover a nest, you are supposed to call the city bird people to come take care of it. All deterrent devices must be gentle--flexible rubber spikes, etc. The mini ballustrades below windows are covered with chicken wire. And the parks are filled with birdseed scattered by unofficial bird keepers.

Suddenly, the cyclone of birds at St. Mark's Square in Venice makes sense.

Sport Fishing

Every Sunday morning the anglers plop themselves 10 feet apart on the south bank of the Arno. They haul in nets and chum buckets and collapsible poles and tents for shade.

They take their fishing very seriously. Every other week it becomes a competition: Campo di Gara di Pesca Sportiva.

Fly-fishing for trout this isn't. They chuck the bait into the murky center of the river at the point where they cast their hook and wait....

The carp in the river don't seem particularly athletic or wily. It's like reeling in shoes, Brent says. When he asked if they eat the haul, one man grimaced.

Yeah. I didn't think so.

Sticks and Stones

The town's in an uproar over an exhibit at Palazzo Vecchio by American sculptor Greg Wyatt. His organic "Two Rivers" bronzes have gotten caught up in a pissing match between two city leaders: the mayor and a leftist councilmember.

Councilman Da Empoli decided that Wyatt's work was less than worthy to grace Piazza della Signoria, which has the miniature of the David and Neptune's Fountain. "It's something you would sell on E-Bay," Da Empoli said. Of course, the rest of the council came to Wyatt's defense.

Now, everyone has an opinion.

With this beauty--Bacchus, otherwise known as Cosimo I's court dwarf--on display at Boboli Gardens, the debate seems kind of silly.

Made in Italy

The Tuesday market in La Cascine is like an open-air WalMart--everything from cocktail dresses to parakeets. Very few tourists, but crammed with locals.

After picking through 15 euro shoes and 2 euro wooden bead necklaces the vendors insisted are made in Italy, I bought this spoonrest:

And no, Mom, the stamp on the back doesn't say "Made in China." Apparently, it's the finest Italian porcelain.

La Cascine

We found the equivalent of Central Park Firenze a few blocks from our house. It's clear that's where all the natives who aren't in church or at IKEA disappear to on Sunday mornings--jogging, biking, playing soccer and reading the newspaper. Jack just wanted to ride the carousel tank...