After breakfast, we went across the street to La Specola,a university museum of biology that reminded us of the Peabody at Harvard. After the obligatory climb, we entered room after room of stuffed mammals, birds, reptiles, fish of every sort in glass cases. The centerpiece of the museums are series of human anatomic dissections, all done by the same 17th Century Florentine anatomist. He would carve away all parts of the body, leaving only the nervous system, or at the next cadaver, leaving only the arterial system, or venous system, or lymphatic system, or digestive system, or genitourinary system. It was like a Frank Netter textbook of anatomy drawings, but live, in color, and in 3-D. What an achievement for one man in one lifetime. We also saw the finger of John the Baptist and the jawbone (mandible) of San Girolamo. Absolutely, positively guaranteed. One twisted soul spent many years creating wax dioramas of The Plague, with rotting corpses, gangrene, and exenterations.

Then, we crossed the Ponte Vecchio
..
walked to the Uffizi Gallery, also a palace belonging first to the Uffizi family, and then...and then...you guessed it! To the Medicis.
Uffizi Gallery with Palazzo Vechhio and Duomo in background

This place is so huge, so filled with treasures, you could spend a week here and not see everything. Carol, already thrilled at seeing paintings and sculptures that she had studied at college, knew what rooms to lead us to. So, lots of Raphael, Botticelli's "Venus on the Halfshell," A lot of annunziazioni, a lot of ascendiazioni, a lot of crucifizioni, the nasty Jews turning him over to the Romans, "Ecce Homo!" Basta! Basta!Carol taught me to recognized certain motifs: The Virgin Mary always wears blue--it's her color. The angel Gabriel comes for the Annunziatione carrying a lily. Question: If Michelangelo's David was King of Israel, why isn't he circumcised?

By the way, if you are going to the Uffizi, you must get reservations on-line or by phone ahead of time. With reservations, you breeze right in; otherwise, you  can wait in line for hours.

We walked on to Santa Croce,the church that serves as the catacombs for the legends of Italian culture. There they were, all lined up one after the next: Michelangelo, Galileo, Rossini, Dante, Fermi, Brunelleschi.
Machiavelli..Michelangelo..Rossini

And the church wasn't bad, either.

At lunchtime, Marcello Vidale picked us up at the Porta Romana and drove us to his home in the hills just outside Florence. Marcello can trace his family back to the 17th century in Italy. He and his family had a summer villa in Florence for many years. When Hitler came in, Marcello's father handed the keys to his gardener and told him to hold the fort. He went into hiding with monks. After the war, he returned home, and the gardener put the keys back into his hand. "Ecco, signore." Now, Marcello and Eda live in a smaller farmhouse on the grounds, built of stone, with a warm and inviting interior, and gorgeous views of rolling orchards and olive groves. Eda made us a fabulous lunch: risotto con funghi, salmone, pollo, cauliflower with bechamel sauce, baby artichokes that you eat whole, fresh strawberries with lemon and sugar, and cookies. All this with a delightful white wine with a little effervescence to it.

That night, we had planned to meet the Scaramellas (friends from Providence--he a fellow psychiatrist and poker player) for dinner, but Jackie developed severe conjunctivitis, and they had to cancel. We went to Osteria No. 1 for dinner. Thank God they put us in the back room, which was quiet, and not in front, where a group of serenading musicians invited loud, drunk Germans to join them in "O Sole Mio," and "Torna a Sorrento." We had: divine prosciutto con meloni toscani (one of the great dishes of the world, along with Barney Greengrass's smoked whitefish appetizer), a terrible salad with lousy tomatoes and other vegetables, a stupendous rabbit in basil sauce alla Genovese, and melanzane alla parmigianothat was fabulous. A good Rosso di Montepulciano, and excellent espresso and cappucino.