That song kept running through my head last weekend. It began Sunday morning as I left Pistoia and here, in Athens on a warm Wednesday afternoon, it still echoes…
Thank you Mr. Zimmerman, for the ear-worm…
In any case, I left Pistoia with a scratchy throat and by that night I was slightly feverish, congested, et al…I am dubbing this ailment the Tuscan Plague since it attacked all my friends as well. Each seems to have had some variation on the virus, all miserable. I killed mine with plenty of bed-rest, warmth and the miracle of modern pharma. Arriving in Athens this morning I am much improved. I am also relieved to be back in Greece. I need the local soul food.
Rome was lovely despite my ague. I was able to visit the Museo Massimo and gaze upon the precious and lovely Roman frescos; I wandered through the Galleria Borghese and marveled at the Bernini sculptures, frozen motion and pliant, soft marble. How did he do that? Truly a high point in sculpture–a divine concoction of craft, skill, artistry, aesthetics, hard work and obsessive compulsive desire for perfection. Some would say “madness”…”insanity.”
I ate some glorious grub as well. Roman stuff…fried artichokes, sweetbreads, lemon pasta…Very fancy by Greek standards. Foreign food. Western. Give meat on a stick, tomatoes and capers slathered in olive oil and a plate of fried sardines.
Good to be back in the East.