November sunset on the Arno

We always forget how beautiful Florence is. This is at least our third visit (fifth to Italy) in the less-than-three years we've been dating. We've both been here enough times that we tried to navigate without a map yesterday (our beautiful laminated map of Florence has perhaps disappeared into the cracks of our apartment?!). Unfortunately, we failed.

Florentine food remains as good as ever. In Pisa yesterday we did have to stop by our favorite bakery (sounds pretty good, doesn't it?) for some Pisan ricciarelli and pine nut cookies. This was after going by the Museo San Matteo, which has the most excellent collection of Pisan crosses in the world. The crosses move from late 12th century ones, which still show the upright form of Jesus merely leaning against the cross, to the 13th and 14th century where he hangs, arms stretched, eyes closed, and head leaning down, every agony traced.

By the time we got to Florence, we were starving. So we found an osteria that had an artichoke special for B and a fish carpaccio to fulfil my desire to try something new almost every meal while travelling. The fish had been smoked somehow, and was served with arugula and fennel. Delicious! Today we went to the marathon mall (this is the reason for the trip: while I was able to run in Frankfurt four weeks ago, B came down with food poisoning and couldn't run). The marathon goody bag here was amazing: a technical long-sleeve shirt, warm winter running pants, a gel, a gel wrist pouch, and more. The rain was pouring down as we headed back to the hotel, changed, and then across the river to the Via Santo Spirito, which houses a series of pretty consistently good restaurants. For lunch, then, I had another artichoke salad (B went with the mixed bruschetta, which was very good), my first bowl of ribollita (I know, embarrassing!) and the most amazing fritto misto, consisting of incredibly tasty mushrooms and two whole deep-fried squash blossoms, whose delicate taste and texture absolutely made my day. B went all the way: pasta with white truffles. Mmmmmm! (A favorite cookbook author always quotes her Italian grandmother saying "Fritto, anche un stivalo" [fried, I would eat even an old shoe]. My squash blossoms were nothing like an old shoe.)

Then it was off to the Brancacci Chapel, where Masaccio's frescoes retain their fresh expressiveness and naturalism. We spent the most time enjoying the properly Protestant (or proleptically Protestant) painting of Peter's fish with caesar's coin inside: the attitude of the disciples, Masaccio showing off his technical virtuousity, and down in the corner the picture of Paul visiting Peter in prison (as if!!). Now we're resting up for tomorrow. The fantastic marathon course is tempting me to run the full, but my knee has made it clear that I should stop at the halfway point. It won't be an official result, but at least I can see my time and cheer B on should he survive without vomiting or other accidents.