Medici Rules.

It is appropriate to illustrate how we have eaten through Italy. Literally. Truffle pasta, Florentine Steak, bread, pizza, red wine. All things I will not be partaking of for at least a month. Carb overload. We ate at Buca Lapi in Florence, known for its Florentine Steak. After we watched some Asian women take their picture with the chefs, we got in on the action. We told him it was like Ratatouille (but in Italia). I think that chef actually kind of looks like the character (if only he had red hair).

The doors of the Baptistry at the Duomo. These illustrate major stories from the Old Testament. Really beautiful and so neat to look at. The real ones are being fixed up, so these are replicas.

You are supposed to touch this boar for good luck. Wiley went the extra mile and picked his nose. Thank you Alessandra for holding him up so he could further examine the nasal cavity of the lucky boar. You can also get a feel for the amount of tourists from this picture. I was clutching my purse closely. We did,after all, see the King of the Gypsies in Florence.

And sometimes after walking around a new city for a long time with an-almost-4-year-old, it makes you feel like this:

Or this:

And especially this:

(Feelings are those expressed by my sweet husband's face, not my spunky child)

the River from the Ponte Vecchio

Did you know that Michelangelo is actually buried under the scaffolding to the left of his tomb? He didn't really want to be buried in Florence, but the Medici family insisted, sent a family member (nephew, maybe?) to Rome to get the body. When the nephew brought it back, those sneaky Medici told him they wouldn't pay for his tomb/monument. So Michelangelo was subtly buried in Santa Croce to the left of where his tomb is, until the family member got enough money to build the proper tomb. Cool, huh? Thanks to Alessandra, our awesome tour guide, for these cool facts. Did you know, too, that the reason these churches are so beautiful (like Santa Croce) is because the businessmen were making so much money lending money and charging high interest, that these elaborate tombs and artwork were ways of paying off the church for turning its head to the lending scheme (once it was done by a proper bank, it was okay) as well as showing off one's wealth. Ah, the story behind the art. (I hope I got that right.)

And here is the main thing I learned in Florence: Medici Rules.

You know, like O'Doyle Rules. (Billy Madison)

(insert courtesy laugh)

I also learned the Colin Firth goes to the Uffizi Gallery. Wil was looking at a painting, noticed a British accent just behind him, turns around (similar to maybe when we hear American accents in foreign countries. Sees Colin Firth. Thinks: face and voice are familiar. Double take: COLIN FIRTH. And like a good husband, pulls me to another room, and hisses that Colin Firth is in the next room. I tried to play it cool. I really wanted to say I love all your movies, and tell him how Marge and I love to watch Bridget Jones with his Christmas jumper, that he is the best Mr. Darcy, and that Hugh Grant has nothing on him. However, I am almost positive his son was with him (if it wasn't him, it was a look-alike Colin Firth bodyguard), and you hate to mess up father-son bonding. He darted around looking at paintings and pretty soon I lost him. When Wil asked if I would remember the Raphael I saw, or Colin Firth in the Uffizi, I felt a bit judged. (I did enjoy the art, mind you.)

So, for the rest of the time in the Uffizi, like a good wife, I made Wil wear his jacket like Colin Firth did (slung casually over one shoulder). Too bad I couldn't find any glasses like C.F.'s for him to wear.