See how his eyes follow us...

We have met two interesting and fun sisters from the UK, Liz and Mellie (Melanie). They have been with us at the Hotel Lido since Monday, and we began chatting over our breakfasts each morning. They have had many adventures both together and apart, and are a lovely combination of playful naughtiness, genuine curiosity and generosity of spirit. They're also well-informed and enjoy discussing politics, sustainability, and most any other thing, which has kept us marvelously entertained at dinner.

This morning, we were to join them for visit to l'Accademia, home to Michelangelo's remarkable David, but Liz had lost her passport the day before and had determined with extraordinary composure to go to the the police. So Loie, Mellie and I shared a cab, and off we went.

L'Accademia is an art school but also a museum, and works from the Renaissance were encouraged to have little conversations with works by contemporary artists installed nearby. A gallery of alter panels from Giotto and friends chatted nicely with two paintings by Yves Klein.

But this is l'Accademia, so one is here to see Buonarroti's magnificent sculpture. It is so much more monumental in scale than I expected. David stands in his own rotunda, entirely restored and very cunningly lit. Loie and Mellie fancied you could almost see him breathing, and an Italian tour guide near me explained to his group, "Vedete come i suoi occhi ci seguire, prima qui e poi ci."

We bumped into Liz outside and the four of us had coffee in the piazza San Marco before Loie's and my afternoon class. This day was the fish--calamari stuffed with egg, parsley, and Pecorino Romano (the favorite); baby octopus cooked in their own water and white wine; lightly battered red mullet pan sautéed in tomato sauce, and cacciucco (fish soup). But first we had to cut open and clean, yank out guts, lungs (and in the case of the octopus and squid, eyes and even beaks--who knew?)

We rested a bit after class, then went to check out the Ponte Vecchio at night--all the shops were closed, but the bridge was full of tourists, and you have to remind yourself just how long it's been standing there. Like the Rialto in Venice, it appears like a building lined street as you cross it, but there are a couple breaks where you can admire the city lights and look out at the slow-moving Arno far below. We stopped for a beer/glass of wine then grabbed a cab to meet Liz and Mellie for a late snack (what would I do without the beautiful insalata formaggiaio at Outside Bistro?!?)