After a break

After such a very long break in posting as mine it is very difficult to resume.  It is time thought. I am not sure if anybody missed my writing, but I did. This is a good reason enough to start again.

I am back in Australia, my home. It is really emotionally complicated for me having two homes, two home countries and loving them both even if in a different way. Some of my friends consider me lucky to be in such a situation. And I am grateful that I can taste and understand the two so different cultures. Poland is always more dramatic and the current situation is not, what I call, safe for Poles. There are many good things that happen there if one forgets Mr Putin for a while.

Some time ago I wrote about the Polish Prime Minister. I am very proud now that he will be the President of the European Council for the next five years. Great and well deserved recognition.

This is just a “let’s get me going again” post. I even do not have a proper subject for my writing today. I just wanted to make a move in the right direction. 

Remembering Warsaw Uprising 1944

I am still in Poland and a lot is happening here but I was sidetracked by some health issues so I am writing with some delay about a very complex Polish historical issue. I am not quite sure if I managed to sort it out for myself already but my thoughts are a bit more clear. I am talking about the Warsaw Uprising of the first of August 1944. This year is a big anniversary and a big discussion on the subject. I was brought up on literature, films and propaganda presenting images of those horrible times. There were many years when communistic propaganda did not allow true presentation of the events and their meaning. Home Army was the Polish resistance movement in German-occupied Poland in allegiance with Polish Government-in-Exile. They organised and fought in the Warsaw Uprising. The communistic regime was on the other  side of political spectrum and very critical about anything related to the Home Army. This is putting it very mildly as there were times when people associated with the Home Army were considered an enemy of the communistic system and were savagely persecuted after the war the same  as by Germans during the war.

The uprising started at 5pm (W Hour) on the 1^st of August 1944. Every year sirens of Warsaw joined by hooting cars lament in memory of the tragic times. Actually more and more towns freeze for one minute to remember and pay respect to those who so willingly gave their lives in attempt to free Poland.

                     

For many years I just thought it was patriotic, tragic and unsuccessful but I did not judge. Later I became angry that the Uprising was called at all. It was doomed to fail and the young people, children really, were called to form an unarmed army. They were sent to a certain death by politicians in London and Home Army superiors. I was angry that 200,000 people died in the senseless fights, that they were so young, many in their teens, that Warsaw was destroyed in carpet bombing to punish the nation. I was angry at the willingness of Poles to die in romantically patriotic senseless uprisings. There were many of them in Polish history. All but one lost. 

                                     

I still am angry at that, but I have learnt to see the need to pay tribute to the people who gave their lives and I do not protest any more that there is so much fuss over the anniversary of the 1^st of August. 

How can one loose weight in Italy?

I was not able to even if I thought that I might. It was an opportunity, in a way, walking and walking during days of sightseeing, no fridge around to make trips to in moments of weakness. However it did not work that way I intended and I am not sure why. Three meals a day, no excesses, hmmm...Many would laugh at me thinking – Italian food and slimming??!! Think of those Italian mamas. The mama image must have been created for a reason. Well, yes, maybe... But when I looked at the Florentine people, no matter what age or sex they were slim! Maybe I was selective in my noticing examples of skinny Italians. Maybe, but they were many slim people there anyhow.  Maybe Floretines are different to the other citizens of Italy, I know they think themselves better and more sophisticated.

So what do they eat, the same as tourists? Pastas? Risottos? Gnocchi? Cheese? Gelatos? Focaccia? Panini? Do they drink Italian wine as so many of non-Italians do? I am still puzzled but I also have my little insight to the mystery. I met a very slim, elegant  lady in an elegant shoe boutique. We engaged in a conversation, she spoke very good English and was keen to talk. After some polite remarks and some girly chat I plucked up the courage to asked her the question : how come you can be so slim having all this food around you? Do you eat it? The answer was – yes, once a week I eat what I like in moderation including gelato and tiramisu. I thought – this is clever. I will then declare Saturday to be my day of pleasure. I will eat nice things in moderation with a glass or two of champagne or a good wine, maybe even Vin Santo  with a biscotti? Do you know they dunk biscotti in Vin Santo? Fantastic! And such a simple delicious desert to serve your friends!  Wow, I am dreaming of it already.

When I was in Florence, I actually behaved as it was two weeks of Saturdays. We ate what was available and this was not particularly healthy but we hardly had any choice. In our palazzo accommodations we had coffee, tea and biscuits for pre-breakfast snack. After few days I skipped the biscuits. I still do not know what Italians eat for breakfast but in cafes there are only piles of focaccias or paninis with bocconcini or other cheese, prosciuto  and sometimes a symbolic leaf of something green. This was our regular breakfast which we ate on our way to some church or gallery. Plus two cappuccinos served without any chocolate as it is in Sydney.  Coffee is much nicer this way.

Big coffee to get us going

Our lunches were light another white bread sandwich, sometimes a salad with a glass of wine. So far not that sinful. 

Around seven we were making our way to Santo Spirito for dinner. By Italian standards it was still very early for diner, but in my book it was already late. We did not eat anything excessive really, but this was time for a hot meal. Italian eat in a different way to what I am used to, vegetables are ordered separately to the meat and one somehow forgets about them when faced with other choices and they do not land up on your plate automatically. Each dinner stared with compulsory white bread that landed up automatically on our table, not like it was with vegies, together with  fragrant olive oil or black olives tapenade. One simply had to eat it. In our  favourite restaurant we typically ordered a big salad to share and half size  portions of either pasta or some delicious Italian main course speciality. Excessive? I do not think so.

This was really nice

On our way home it was time for gelato, we passed two of fantastic galaterias and one just had to sample the flavours. My companion was very particular about what she ate so there was always a research stage before she made her choice. I was more overwhelmed with possibilities and they all seemed fantastic to me, so I did not fuss.

One of our favourites Galateria La Carraia. Serious stuff! This was only part of one of the two counters, hence problems to make a choice.

                                               

Three friends - three crucifixions

I am still on the subject of Florence. Now I got to the art part of my visit there. I am reading and discovering things I only glimpsed when in Florence.  Having time to reflect on my new interest I started to really appreciate what I have seen and what I still must see. As it is with the art in Florence, there is no escape from religious subjects. Actually I do not want to escape it but my motivation is not of religious nature even if I write about crosses or Madonnas. Come to think about it may have been rarely motivation for the artists of the times.

There is a lovely story about two friends Brunelleschi and Donatello. I believe that originally the story comes from Vasari’s Lives of the Artists. I got it second hand though, so I am not sure. I am sure though that the three artists (Brunelleschi, Donatello and Masaccio) were friends. There is enough evidence of that. 

Here goes the story about Donatello Brunelleschi rivalry.

Donatello was the first one to sculpture Crucifixion and he showed the sculpture to his friend Brunelleschi. The feedback was perhaps friendly and meant to be constructive but is was scathing. Brunelleschi obviously had different idea of aesthetics and the way the Christ should look like.   In his opinion Donatello sculptured an uncouth fellow, somebody like a simple peasant with tragic hair cut. Brunelleschi was disgusted.

            

Donatello was not fazed by the criticism. In his opinion there was a place for ugliness in art. He said – Why don’t you sculpture your own version then!

When I look at the Donatello's Christ from Santa Croce, I see a beautiful suffering face. Taste must have changed through centuries.

Brunelleschi thought that he will show his younger friend how it should be done and got to work on his own cross, the one in Santa Maria Novella. It is also extremely beautiful work. The artist, pleased with the result, wanted to boast a bit. He arranged to have lunch together with Donatello at his place and two friends after getting their food shopping were walking to Brunelleschi’s place. The host wanted his friend to have time to appreciate his achievement in private and said – I’ll get us some wine and you go ahead. When Donatello entered the place and looked up at the wall where the cross was hung, he dropped the shopping, eggs splashed on the floor and all lunch ingredients scrambled. He stood in front of the Christ in total admiration, muttering something like “Bloody hell, this is great!” Brunelleschi seeing the mess cried out – What have you done with our lunch! Donatello answered – Never mind the lunch, this is heavenly!

               

He obviously was not envious and was able to appreciate art without any prejudices. I wish I could be that magnanimous.

There is a third friend, Masaccio, and a third crucifixion, also in basilica Santa Maria Novella. When I saw it I was spellbound. Thankfully I was not carrying any lunch, I could drop. It was supposed to be a fresco for grave of married couple – Lenzi, the couple pictured at the bottom. And it is a fresco but with a difference. Masaccio using perspective masterfully created something which looks like a chapel not only a two dimensional fresco. It took him only 30 days to paint something that great and innovative, wow!  

                                            

Would you be able to pick up your favourite crucifixion? I cannot. Love them all.

I want to go back there!

I have been writing for a while about Florence. This was one of the best holidays I have had, most educating at least. I already wrote about living in a palazzo, about Santo Spirito, about Florentine men and values of Florentines (each time I write the word an image of biscuits comes to mind).

I will make Florentines on my return to Sydney

I have been impressed by so many things about Florence and now thinking, reading and learning about the place and its treasures I just realised that I need to go back there. I had been like many tourists unaware of what actually one can see there, even if I knew about Uffizi, The Doumo and Academia.  About Giotto, Fillippo Lippi, Donatello and Michael Angelo. Even about Brunelleschi.  I knew  that Florence is the place for Renaissance art. I heard that 3-4 days is enough to see the place. I, myself thought that two weeks will be plenty. And it was in some ways. It was enough to get the taste of the place. To get confused, enchanted, spellbound and fall in love with the place.

I have been a fan of galleries for many, many years but I thought that Italian Renaissance was not my cup of tea. I love Impressionists and Dutch XVII century paintings with Vermeer my absolute favourite. I was not all that keen on religious scenes of earlier paintings and I would say Florence is mostly about that. At the same time I wanted to see it, not expecting that I will develop a deeper interest. I was wrong. Coming back to my Polish home, impressed by what I had seen, I started to read books about Italian art and Florence in particular. And I realised that would so much like to go back there and see it all again.

Andrea della Robbia - ceramic sculpture in Santa Croce

Many things made an unexpectedly big impression on me and some I expected to take my breath away did not do it. So, what was the biggest joy for me to see? Very difficult to think of only one. San Lorenzo, Santa Croce, Boboli Gardens, Brancacci Chapel, Niobe room in the Uffizi (number 42) with marble sculptures of  scared Niobe’s children being chased to their death, Della Robbia pottery sculptures among others.

Brancacci Chapel 

I know that the seventeen sculptures in the room 42 are not the most notable pieces in the gallery but the atmosphere in the room made me shiver with fright as if I was myself chased by jealous gods. The Venus and Primavera of Botticelli  made me merely think – pretty. Everybody is, of course entitled to their own impressions and they are a function of the mood we are in. I also think that inflated expectations may be a cause of some disappointment. On reflection, I think that the most important thing for me is what is actually happening in the room. Making my way through pushy crowds makes it very difficult for me to appreciate art. Typically the rooms with the most famous pieces of art are very crowded and this is not the best environment for art appreciation. This strongly coloured my perception. By the way, the room 42 was, perhaps understandably, not full of people so I could take in the mood of the sculptures.

This only small example of sculptures form room 42

                 

I know that one of the things I want to put on my bucket list is another visit to Florence. Maybe another two weeks? This time I will know exactly what I want to see.  I already have a list which will grow no doubt. 

They have time

I am still reminiscing Florence, I have experienced and observed so much that the town and the way of its people influenced me.

I have bee traveling with my young niece, Martyna, who has friends living in Florence. One of the first days of our holidays the young women were talking about Florentine men. It happened to be a fashion week in Florence and we were passing many very well and interestingly dressed people. What surprised me was that men caught my eye the same way as women. I appreciate beauty and I notice good looking people when I see them. For some reason men rarely catch my attention when in Australia or in Poland. Women do. Not so in Florence. I wondered what the reason was and then I realized that in Florence more men take care of themselves in similar way women do. They must spend some time in front of the mirror to achieve this nonchalant look which is appealing. I was told by my young fashion guides that a Florentine man who wants to be noticed, and many of them do, take care of their weight, skin, outfit and hair. He is dressed according to a new fashion, the colours are bright and he typically wears a scarf. On hot summer days as well. At times he wants to make an impression of a totally relaxed and seemingly not caring how he looks and in such cases his beard is very well shaped or his two day stub is carefully modeled. He looks at you as if saying – this is how I am, I do not care really. But he cares and a lot. I was told that when you talk to such a men, the depth of conversation is not impressive. Still they look very ornamental.

                                                   

One day we were in Santo Spirito for a drink, we were served and ready to move away to sit down with our wine on steps in front of the Brunelleschi’s church. I wanted to pay and stretched my hand with a note but the man who already served us the drinks was so engaged in conversation that he did not care about accepting the money. It took a while. Paula, the girl who lives in Florence, said “They have time”. She took the note from my hand, made an impatient gesture in front of the waiter’s nose and the financial transaction was completed with a smile and without further delay.  

On steps of Santa Spirito (not in a gutter!) having the wine I had problems paying for

Few days later when I was sitting in a restaurant wanting to make my order, the waiters hearing music played in the neighbourhood started to dance ignoring their customer. My first reaction was impatience, but then I thought “they have time”. It was pleasant to look at happy dancing people so  I turned my attention to the performance in front of me. It was fun. A couple of minutes later smiling, happy waitress came up to take my order in the most polite and courteous way. It perhaps never occurred to her that the order of a client may be more important than a moment of joy.

When I was telling the story to my coaching friend with whom I practice centering she said: “You know, they really live in the moment, they are present to joy of life”. And then I though: Hmm… this is something to think about. And maybe learn?

Reminiscing Florence - Santo Spirito

I did  lot of sightseeing in Florence. One does, of course. This, in fact, was the whole purpose of going there but when I think about my Florentine holiday I think about other things as well if not most of all. Like food, or our evening walks to Santo Spirito.

Our spunky hostess, the lucky owner of the apartment in the palazzo, suggested that the best, the most original food in Florence is at Santo Spirito Piazza. We were told that this is a fun place, the food is good, not too expensive and not that touristy. So, after the first evening meal which we had on the “better” side of Arno we decided to see what one finds on the other side of the river – in the quarter of Florence called Oltrarno. Oltrarno means beyond the Arno. It is the part of the town we could see from our window. It wasn’t really all that far from our place, walking there we passed many interesting, if not historically or artistically important, places. Like this one. 

This was just a garden behind a beautiful ornate gate. To me it looked romantic and a bit mysterious. I imagined stories about life behind the gate, in the beautiful garden. They must have been romantic. This was a busy street but behind the gate I imagined secrets, romance and mysteries.

Santo Spirito is a church, another master piece of Brunelleschi, the big square in front of the church  is called the same name. Around the square there are restaurants with tables outside which are typically booked out after 7:00 pm but one can always find a table inside which is obviously not the best when the weather is hot. Still OK, as we discovered. There are something like 7 or 8 restaurants around the square. We have not visited all of them but we made a good progress. I think it was one or two restaurants left unattended. The menu in them was not to our liking.

Each meal started with while bread and olive oil or black olives tapenade. The olive oil typically was so fragrant, tasting wonderful that all intentions of not overeating were very difficult to live up to. But this post is not about Italian food it is about Santo Spirito.

A lot happens there. One late evening, when we left the restaurant and were on our way home, suddenly loud, rock music started. One could hear it from each far corner of the square. Couples were coming out to the centre of what became suddenly a dance floor. We stopped, transfixed, watching unexpected performance. An this was dancing of a very high rock and roll level. Those people could earn money for their show. I have no idea who the people were, they were most likely locals but I spotted an older couple who I decided must be American. The gentleman looked to me like Hemingway in his later years. We heard them speak and it was obvious that they were indeed an American couple. They also must have liked the place as we were dining at the same restaurant with them the next evening. 

The American couple is dancing in the background

We never stayed long enough to find out when the parties finish at Santo Spirito, but I suspect that it is very late. From a friend of my niece, Paula, who lives in Florence, we heard that weekend parties finish in the morning. Through open window, I heard happy people returning home at 5 – 6 in the morning. Florence is a place for having fun and live a relaxed life.

If you ever go to Florence, please make your way to Santo Spirito in an evening. They have super gelato there as well. I am not sure if I will not remember this place more fondly and longer than Uffizi with its treasures.