Culture

I’m not that impressed by Michelangelo. To be clear, I am talking of the renaissance guy not the Ninja Turtle. Leonardo Da Vinci, now he was impressive. He painted the world’s most observed picture, he designed the tank, the helicopter, the parachute and, for all I know, the IPhone, and he could do that thing where he wrote with both hands at the same time. All of which is seriously impressive.

Michelangelo on the other hand was a competent interior decorator. Not really my taste the whole God and Adam bit, I am more of a feature wall, Scandinavian simplicity fan, but the Pope apparently loved it, so who am I to criticise. Sculpture though? No. Imagine you were David and seeing his work for the first time. I think you’d be happy with the torso, probably the head, but you’d definitely want smaller hands and a bigger willy. Maybe David was built like that, in which case I can see problems, but I think not. I think Mike cocked up – so to speak.

Ive gone all cultured, have you noticed? I have been to Florence, or Firenze as I call it now. It was a planned trip this one. I was going to the MotoGP and its just down the road so I thought it was an opportunity not to be missed. So off I went.

Firenze is a city of two parts. We will start with the cultural, historic bit. The most famous elements are – I think – the Duomo (cathedral), the Uffizi gallery and the Ponte Vecchio , a medieval bridge over the Arno. There are many other historic sites and loads of churches but I’ll stick with these. The first sighting of the Duomo is a jaw drop moment. It’s huge. I mean proper big. Imagine you built a room round Widnes (which would be a jolly good idea in my opinion) then it would be that kind of scale – sort of. It has a dome and a tower thing and just scale. I would have loved to see inside but I hadn’t booked and the queue – in full sun – was horrendous. Someone should have taken all those people aside and slapped them for being disorganised and then risking heatstroke to make up for it.

I did book for the Uffizi. I did my research and it seemed like the thing to do. So I did. For those who haven’t been, the Uffizi is a gallery stuffed full of pictures of dead people. And sculptures, of other dead people. It’s organised on the maze principle. Room after room all heading off without rhyme or reason. You lose hope that you will ever see daylight again in an endless quest for the exit once you’ve absorbed enough culture, which for me, was just after passing through security. I am glad I went though, there were some beautiful pieces but the thing was spoiled a little by Americans.

Two were having a Skype conversation with a woman who could have outshouted a SpaceX launch and another was endlessly calling for “Stuart”. Personally I think Stuart had run away but there is the possibility she was calling for some long lost lover and she just repeats his name everywhere in the hope she finds him again. Or maybe they’re the same person, in which case I understand his motive.

Which brings me to the other half of the City. All that culture and history attracts Americans like iron filings to a magnet. And now Japanese too. They are everywhere, and they have money. So the second half of Firenze is brands. Jimmy Choo, Omega, Rolex, Chanel. The Ponte Vechia, the mediaeval bridge, is now occupied by jewellery shops – and Rumanians selling plastic bugs that go splat and reform. I don’t get it at all. I think Laboutin and Fendi sell in the States and I am pretty sure there is a hefty customs premium when they take their goods back so why would you come to Europe to buy a bag for £2k? I’m not going to get into the whole “why would you buy a bag for £2k anyway?” thing as I’m no one to talk on that point, but why here? Unless it’s to say “Oh this? I bought it in Firenze, in a little shop by the Duomo” probably said in a drawl.

Anyway, I bought an ice cream, which was epic and enough coffee to see me awake for a millennium. Both have become firm favourites. I was guided, in respect of the first, to avoid stalls that sell too many flavours as you can’t hand-make enough to be commercial. So you look for the ones that have a few options. The one break with that was a shop in Riccione that was ‘artisanal’ and they could justify that title. That was epic. And they didn’t breach the second rule, which is no blue ice cream as there is nothing in nature as blue as some of the concoctions you see. Blueberries, just in case you’re itching to contradict, aren’t neon coloured. Ice creams are now my one a day habit.

Coffee though, hmmm, two at breakfast and then through the day until tea time by which point I can hold three conversations at once. The coffee here is glorious. Short, sharp and concentrated. You either drink at the counter, which is normal and cheaper, or you sit outside. You have to realise that if you take the latter option you’re not buying coffee so much as renting the pavement. You won’t find many Italians drinking coffee on the pavement outside the Duomo.

Go to Florence if you like culture, shopping or American accents. You’ll have all three till your ears bleed.

Anyway, I’m off for a swim. If anyone sees an American guy called Stuart looking furtive, tell him she’s still looking.