Slow to rise we headed for the Museo dell’Accademia where David lives and joined the queue that was many times bigger than it had been on our first day. How I wished we had persevered. There was nothing to do but to admire the graffiti left by thousands of tourists and the airy notes of a woman in the building above practicing scales. Alysia wondered what the young boy in front of us must have been writing in his Florentine leather-bound journal: “I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m bored, my stupid parents making me queue for hours”. She was wrong. We later heard him relaying to his parents his plans for a spaceship bigger and better than the gee-wizzmo 2260 (or something like that). Equally entertaining were the Sudanese running past quickly followed by a plain-clothed policeman for their illegal products. Unfortunately while we could hear one of them being tackled we couldn’t see it. The only thing more tempting than going to see was how long the line must now have grown behind us. But more than an hour in we weren’t going to risk losing our spot even if the Korean couple behind us weren’t so worried.
When we thought we were close to the head of the line, maybe six metres, we stopped moving, for a long time. I was surely going mad singing to myself “some people just have no heart - it’s happening every-day - pure massacre - pure massacre - there’s gonna be a pure masi-care, ah ha.” And then, “despite of my rage I am still just a rat in a maze…” Those annoying preferiti with their prebooked tickets waltzing into the museum ahead of us. Half an hour later we were two metres from the entrance and waited another half an hour maybe - by this stage it was hard to keep track.
It was just before we were finally allowed in that we actually had something worth looking at. Our first celebrity sighting in the form of Helena Bonham Carter (Fight Club, Alice in Wonderland, Harry Potter), her two kids and what must have been the nanny - and she was crap at her job. Helena started to walk away leading the boy by the hand who obviously needed to wee, when the girl child started screaming for her mum. Time to step up Nanny McPhee, but oh no, the best she could muster was “she’ll be back soon”. A minute later Helena returned, obviously altered to the screams by her daughter for a competent babysitter. I don’t know what happened after that because we were finally allowed in.
All up, by the time we got inside, we had spent close to three hours in line. Sensing I was going to be disappointed Alysia insisted I close my eyes and lead me blind through the crowd to David. If there is one thing that will build suspense and excitement it’s closing your eyes. Just try to keep the smile off your face in the same circumstances knowing everyone is looking at you knowing that, yes, you are disturbed.
It is an amazing sculpture. How anyone could do such a thing from a single block of marble without modern technology, and the detail! Even when the experts some years ago tried to insist Michelangelo had stuffed up the proportions, the torso and head being too big they said, someone else disproved them. It’s sculpted taking into account the perspective of the viewer and the fact the thing is near five metres tall. The thing would look stupid if it were in mathematic proportion. What makes you appreciate it even more are some of his unfinished works in the foyer. If only I had a fraction of the talent.
After a bite of pizza we headed for the doumo where I left Alysia in the line to draw some more cash in hope of something smaller than 50s. Alas I retuned without any cash and a broken card - not only was my card ‘not overseas activated’ (which was untrue) it spat it out with a fractured spine. Luckily I have more than one. Anyway, this delay meant we were among the last in, and the 50 wasn’t a problem after all. The steps might be another issue. All up we climbed 416, spiralling up the stone staircase all the way, blackened by the millions of hands that had done it before seeking stability as the grew dizzy. And walls and walls of graffiti. Despite signs everywhere saying ‘do not write on the walls’, it’s obviously likes putting a red flag in front of a bull, cos thousands and thousands of such and such was here and a year date covered the walls of that staircase, up and up and up. The two landings on the way up were well received. Then, after a ladder, we popped into the soft light of a setting sun - on a city littered by haze. It was inspiring, even if the crowds were annoying. Why people stop right at the exit making it difficult for people to get out… I don’t know. I find people are nice and crowds, just stupid. We got some good photos towering above the city - quite peaceful. But all too quickly we were chased off by staff wanting to go home. Back down we had a chance to stop briefly and admire the ceiling of the doumo, painted with angels and the like - quite impressive - even if the experience was interrupted by ignorant people who can’t shut their mouths for five minutes and then of course the even louder SHOOSH! from the staff. We enjoyed it immensely but I was pleased to be away from the tight staircase and frustrating mob.
We ate back in the same area as the night before at a different restaurant. It was a bit disappointing after the night before - we certainly didn’t see the value and were displeased with the staff. Time to call it a night.
Sam (August 11)
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