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12 Pickpocket It was downhill for twelve kilometers into Florence. Stopping along the wall surrounding the old center, I waited for Sharon to catch up. Arriving, she chastised me, "Why didn't you go into that entryway back there?" "Um, I didn't see it." "I think the Roman road should have been a clue." I found another entrance farther along. Cobblestones led to a centro that was overrun with statues and friendly accommodating Florencians who had that tourist service down to a tee. The only statue I recognized was a replica of Michelangelo's David in all his glory. The square was a people watcher's paradise. A tourist armed with a video camera captured mini-skirted females so he could show friends back home scintillating memories of his vacation in Italy. Exhausted students on spring vacation laid in the plaza soaking up rays. "That's what we would look like if we had to travel everywhere by train," Sharon said. I had been trying to convince her that the best way to see cities was not by bicycle, but by Eurail.A pickpocket was in progress as we arrived at a church. A woman working in a boutique across the street yelled at the elderly British couple who had just been picked by the two ragged children. The well-dressed woman checked her bag. Sure enough, her wallet was gone. The husband detained the two kids by holding out his arms like an aged rugby player. The oldest girl smacked him in the face with a newspaper a few times. But his unflappable British upper lip didn't loosen. By that time, both girls were bawling their eyes out. Periodically, the eldest girl would smack the younger one and blame her for the screw-up. A pot-bellied man came out of the store and yelled at the kids. They cowered under his bellowing voice. When he told them the cops had been phoned and were on their way, the kids revealed the wallet was in the trash can. The British couple went over, dug through the garbage, found the wallet bundled inside a piece of crumpled newspaper. The woman checked her billfold and found everything there. Noticeably relieved, they profusely thanked the store clerk, turned on their heels and headed back in the direction they had come. Inside the colossal church Sharon noticed movement overhead. Looking way up, people as small as dolls walked along the upper ceiling walkways. Sharon had a great day admiring art--but it was totally lost on me. In my ignorance I figured if I had seen one religious painting of Mary standing on a serpent's head, I had seen it all--and I had seen two. On the way out of town we passed through a huge park and discovered where the locals went on weekends--not to the museums and art galleries when the weather was so fine--but rather to picnic, bike ride and play soccer. |
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