| Postcards
FLORENCE Dearest S--, You know I headed first for the markets and plump basil leaves. There's this pappa alla pomodoro that is better than sex, if you can believe (and I know you're a Scorpio). Those Medicis had it so good, a bevy of talented, eager painters to decorate their palazzos, fine orchards of olive trees, and now Americans snapping pictures with open-mouthed reverence. The David is, as reported, remarkably ill-proportioned. What was strange: a Chinese restaurant named La Primavera--I guess, like the noodles Marco Polo brought back, everything is translated into Italian in an Italian city and it's not to add faux- Euro glamour. But lest I forget I'm not Florentine, someone snorted to his friend, "Cinese," sized me up, and went laughing down the street. Florence |