An older gentleman was at the ticket booth.  I asked for two tickets.  In Hungarian.  He told me the price.  In Hungarian.  Then he asked me a question.  In Hungarian.  I can usually communicate what I need, but I always get in trouble with questions.

I explained that we speak English.  He said that he just speaks Hungarian.  He handed us a map, and I thanked him.  He laughed and said that I actually knew Hungarian very well.  I thanked him again and told him to have a good day.

I love those kind of interactions, where the other person is patient, kind, and impressed that I can speak any Hungarian at all.  Where we both laugh.

Because Jesse doesn’t have boots, we stuck to the shoveled paths in the garden.  Mostly we wanted to see the orchids in the palm house.  On a bleak gray day in February, the warmth of the greenhouse was welcome.  The orchid room was small, but we appreciated the beauty and delicate architecture of these exotic flowers.

I snapped some photos outside as we headed back towards the exit.  The temperature was hovering around 32 degrees Fahrenheit, so it was a perfect day for a stroll in the snow.  Over the next few days, the snow will begin to melt.  Spring is on its way.

Because the thought of spending the evening with dancing and drinking teenagers made Jesse’s stomach churn, my friend Dianna agreed to be my prom date.  My contact teacher met us around 4:30 and we walked together to the venue, a 5-star hotel in the Great Forest.

They were still setting up, and Dianna and I felt like we had arrived at a wedding reception too early.  Maybe a reception to which we hadn’t been invited.  We spent much of the evening people watching and not really understanding what was going on.  It was great fun.

Because of technical difficulties, the program started about half an hour late.  We enjoyed two hours of performances from the graduating classes and teachers.

The headmaster started off the evening by singing his own lyrics (in Hungarian) to the Beatle’s song “Let it Be.”  It was one of the stranger experiences I’ve had in this country.

The four graduating classes each presented a short program, but many of them lacked enthusiasm.  The class I teach, 13a, prepared a video spoofing their teachers.  This gave my male students an opportunity to cross dress and wear wigs, something teenage boys always seem to enjoy doing.

The teachers spent a lot of time and effort on their presentations.  Some dressed in traditional costumes . . .

. . . and some dressed like Turks.  (This is a historical reference because Hungary was occupied by the Turks for over a hundred years.)

Although it was all very entertaining, by 8:30 PM, we were getting pretty hungry.  At last, the waiters brought out drinks and salads.  There was a champagne toast, and the dinner finally began.

Imbibing alcohol in the presence of students is unheard of in the U.S., but here it is accepted.  Most of the “school leavers” (seniors) are 18, the legal drinking age, so they all had champagne, too.

After the dinner, there was a beauty competition, and we got to vote on the prom herceg and hercegnő, or prince and princess.

There was a second round of competition involving trivia questions and a jury, but we weren’t sure what the rules were.  Not even my coworkers understood the decision making process.

In the end, the prince and princess were both students I teach.

The prince received a Burger King crown . . .

. . . and the headmaster crowned him using a toy light saber.  We’d glimpsed the light saber earlier in the evening and wondered how it would come into play.

Although I was glad that my student won, Dianna and I were both rooting for number twelve, an eccentric lad with hipster glasses and a plaid suit.  He definitely stood out as unique, which takes guts in high school.

The princess (number eight, in the middle below) is a pretty, laid back girl.  A far cry from a stereotypical bubbly cheerleader who would be voted prom queen in America.

While the jury deliberated, I couldn’t resist snapping a photo of Dianna’s amazing cat camera, which was perched on a wine glass taking video of the competition:

At 10:30 PM, the dancing finally began.  The headmaster danced the first dance with the princess.  The song was “Let It Be.”  Apparently the headmaster is a big Beatles fan.

I had no desire to dance in front of my students.  In fact, it’s best if I dance when no one else is around.  So Dianna and I put on our boots and headed home.

Prom in Hungary seems to be less about finding a date or buying the perfect dress and more about celebrating the achievements of the seniors, together as a school.

Or maybe it’s just an excuse for the teachers to dress up in costumes and look silly.

Whatever the case, I’m glad I got to experience it!

The overall attitude in Hungary towards this holiday seems to be that it is cheesy, commercial, and a waste of time. (They are probably right.)

This makes me wonder who bought all the Valentine’s cards available in the stores.  Expat Americans like myself cannot support the Valentine’s industry in Hungary.

The schools where I work did not recognize Valentine’s in any way.  No candy grams were delivered during class.  There was no Valentine’s Dance.  Not a single pink or red heart was to be seen in the hallways.

Despite the lack of enthusiasm, I felt compelled to teach Valentine’s themed lessons this week.  My initial thought was to pass out a crossword, which is a sure crowd pleaser.  Then I decided to take a risk.

My students love listening to English songs and filling in missing words in the lyrics.  Because my knowledge of popular music is severely handicapped, I googled “love rap songs.”  In the end, I selected “How to Love” by Lil’ Wayne and “All I Have” by Jennifer Lopez and LL Cool J.  (It’s a good thing I decided that I liked these, because by the end of the week I will have heard them each twenty times.)

Then my students had to write their own rap.  I provided an outline, and they filled in a few missing terms.  For example:

“Oh, Baby, you’re as soft as a ____________ (your favorite animal/toy)”

I said teddy bear.  Students said things such as hamster, cat, and opossum.

At first, students groaned. And moaned.

When I told them they had to perform their rap for the class, their faces contorted into expressions of pure misery.

But I would never ask them to do something I wouldn’t do myself.  Like any self-respecting teacher, I modeled by performing my own version of the rap.  I knew I looked silly.  That was the price I had to pay to get them to apply their English skills in a creative way.  Student reactions ranged from shock and horror to fits of giggles and spontaneous applause.

Despite their initial protests, they worked hard to write their rap.  I heard them practicing to themselves.  In the end, all but one of my students agreed to perform.  I was proud of them.

One of the boys wrote his song for me.  I was flattered.  No one has ever written me a love song before, let alone a love rap.

After finishing my lessons at the high school, I headed to the refugee camp and arrived just in time for a Carnivale party hosted by twenty German social work students and two professors.  I was in charge of a Valentine’s card table.  Despite my anxiety that the children wouldn’t be interested when they could get their faces painted and dance, I had a steady stream of visitors and ran out of photocopies for my craft.

Many of the children carefully colored, cut, and pasted hearts on a card.  They checked with me anxiously to see if they were doing it correctly.  They painstakingly wrote “Happy Valentine’s Day,” signed their name, and then promptly ran off, abandoning their card at the table.  For them, the joy is all in the act of creating and not in keeping the final product.

Some of the adults made cards, too.  I have to admit, the men make me uncomfortable.  I know that many of them come from countries and cultures where attitudes towards women are dramatically different than in America–or Hungary.  My instinct to smile at everyone could be horribly misinterpreted, so I generally try to avoid eye contact.  One man worked hard to complete a card that his son or younger brother had left unfinished.  When he was done, he stood up, tossed the card at me, and said, “Here you go, baby.”  Then he swaggered off.  I wasn’t sure how to react, so I decided to be amused.

These girls melt my heart:

(Her card was the exact same shade of orange as her pants.)

(working hard on their cards)

(This boy had a mouse face.  His painted buck teeth made him even more adorable than normal.)

(One of the teenagers begged to take some pictures using my camera.  She caught me trying to look important and in charge.)

As usual, my afternoon at the camp was chaotic and wonderful.  Thank goodness the social work students helped me out.  I decided to take a later bus than normal, but I still had to throw my things together and bolt to get home in time for my date with Jesse.

I managed to take a few pictures of this wintry field on the edge of town before hopping on the bus.

Jesse and I exchanged gifts and had dinner at a restaurant down the street from our apartment.  It was the perfect ending to a sweet day.

New Picture Cards

When I was struggling during my first year of teaching, a coworker advised me that at some point I would “hit my stride.”  I wouldn’t anxiously anticipate whether the lesson would be a disaster or not.  I would know what to expect.

Knock on wood, I think I have hit my stride.

After 1.5 years in the classroom, I am painfully aware that I am still a beginner teacher.  Had I landed a job in an affluent school district teaching middle school math and social studies three years ago, I might be more confident right now.  However, I would not have challenged myself, and I would have missed out on some important, if painful, life lessons.

Instead, I taught remedial reading for a year in a high-poverty urban high school.  I took a year off from teaching to serve as an AmeriCorps VISTA.  Now, midway through the school year in Hungary, I know roughly what to expect from each of my 24 different groups of students.  For instance, one group of ninth graders will inevitably take twice as much time to complete an assignment as the other.

Nevertheless, students are filled with surprises.  Some things they say make me smile, others make me cringe, and others blow me away with their intelligence and creativity.

For example:

A sixth grade student during a superheroes lesson: “I want x-ray vision so I can look through girls shirts.” (They grow up far too young.)

During the same lesson: “Orbán Viktor lies, steals, and gets the country into debt.” (Orbán Viktor is the Hungarian Prime Minister.  I had no idea that a lesson about superheroes could turn political, especially with sixth grade.)

An earnest twelfth grade student: “Ms. Rebman, where do I write my magic number?” (They were playing the elementary school classic MASH to predict a classmate’s future.)

An eleventh grade boy: “Ms. Rebman, you can’t marry Brad Pitt!  You’re already married!” (Subtext: He wishes I were single.  About half of my eleventh grade boys have a crush on me, which both amuses me and makes me feel uncomfortable.)

MASH Card

A second grade girl telling me what items she is selling in her store: “Bikini, lip gloss, Lady Gaga and Rihanna t-shirt, and shoes.” (Again, they grow up too young.)

A fourth grade boy: “Ms. Rebman, in Sims II, a robber took everything from my house.  He stole the TV and the bed.” (I helped him with the words robber and stole.) “Then the police killed the robber!”

Another fourth grader: “Ms. Rebman, can I have my own piece of paper?”

Me: “Atti, It is important to work with Bence. I’m excited to see the menu that you two make.”

Atti: “I want pizza cream.  Bence doesn’t want pizza cream.  I will make my own menu.”

Me: “Bence, why don’t you let Atti serve pizza cream for lunch.  Atti, Bence gets to decide what you serve for dinner.”

The boys looked at each other, nodded, and worked together happily for the rest of the period.  I have no idea what the hell pizza cream is.

An adorable first grader: “Anyám azt mondja, hogy nem tudod a magyar!” At least, I think that’s what he said.  The translation is: “My mom says that you don’t know Hungarian!”  I love that he said this to me in Hungarian.  The youngest students really struggle with the fact that I don’t know their language.  They assume that if they can speak it, then everyone else can, too.

Kindergartners at the end of class: “Szia, Mickey!  Szia, angol néni!” (Good bye, Mickey!  Good bye, English aunt!”

Sometimes I am surprised at the things I say.

Me, modeling how to play MASH: “Maybe I’ll marry Justin Bieber, have 50 kids, and live on Pluto.”

Me, walking into a lesson with class 13: “Zoli, put on your pants!”

Me, also with class 13: “Daniel, you have to wash the crayon off your desk before you may leave the classroom.”

Me to class 10: “Boys!  Stop drawing on each other’s faces with crayon and finish your flag!”

My classroom is often filled with laughter.  Occasionally it devolves into shouting and chaos.  Sometimes a hush falls over the room, and the only sound is the scratching of colored pencils as first graders color their farms, or the tap-tap-tap of pens as high school students cross off MASH boxes to predict their classmates’ futures.

My own farm artwork

Teaching is a dynamic, challenging, and exhausting profession.  At the end of the week, I just want to curl up on the couch with a  cup of tea and a book.  Which is exactly what I will do this weekend because snow is falling and the temperature is hovering around 10 degrees Fahrenheit.

I feel like I’m back in Kalamazoo.

But I am looking forward to going to school on Monday and wondering what surprising things the students will say or do next week.

*I changed all students names*

E-I-E-I-O

The Nagytemplom (Great Church) is Debrecen’s most iconic landmark.  Back in October, Jesse and I climbed to the top of the clock tower, but couldn’t go inside the church because a ribbon pinning ceremony was going on.

This weekend, we finally got a peek inside.  Except for the organ, the interior was dominated by crisp white curves and lines.  It was simple but beautiful.  Probably the exact effect that the Calvinists were hoping to achieve.

The Nagytemplom is famous because Kossuth Lajos read Hungary’s Declaration of Independence from Austria here in 1849.  This was his chair.  (Unfortunately, the revolution was squashed, Hungarian generals were executed, and the Hapsburgs went around smashing Hungarian castles.)

From the clock tower, we could see one of Debrecen’s other great churches, the Catholic Saint Anne’s.  I took this picture in October, but never bothered to see the church up close.

The Baroque church was completed in 1746, but the towers were not added until the early 1800s.  As we looked around, three elderly people kept an eye on us, and one lady was praying.  Although it isn’t featured in my Lonely Planet guidebook, I think that this church is one of Debrecen’s treasures.

Showing the city to a friend helped me appreciate how much Debrecen has to offer.

Also, it’s always good to chat with a teacher stationed in a different part of Hungary.  The weekend was full of laughter, too much good food, and a lesson plan exchange.  Now I’m rejuvenated and ready for another week of teaching.

Although I am not ready to pick up and go home tomorrow, I am feeling the tug of the U.S.A.  But I know that teaching in Hungary is a once in a lifetime experience, and if I don’t focus on the present, then I will miss out on moments of joy and opportunities to connect with others.

So here’s a summary of January so far:

1.  I learned that if you give crayons to teenagers, some students will revert to kindergarten mode.  They will draw on their desks and on each other’s faces.

2.  I led my ninth graders in singing the Star Spangled Banner–after they listened to Beyonce’s version.  Please note: my voice is not as good as Beyonce’s.  My students were kind, though.  They had persuaded me to sing a Hungarian Christmas carol back in December, so they knew what they were in for.

3.  My fourth graders spent about ten minutes one class period talking to each other about how much they love lektor class and how much they love me.  They also loved their previous American teachers.  I appreciated the ego boost nonetheless.

4.  There has been a lot of hokey-pokey-ing.  My students were unfamiliar with the song.  It is a great way to review body parts, and a little exercise at the beginning of class does wonders for calming them down.

5.  After reading “The Ant and the Grasshopper” to my students several dozen times, I now have it memorized.  I realized that I am not comfortable with Aesop’s moral that if you don’t work, then you shouldn’t eat.  It doesn’t exactly capture the complexities of obtaining employment in the twenty-first century.

6.  Jesse and I had dinner with my coworker’s family.  In Hungarian homes, pálinka (fruit brandy that is often 100 proof or more) is an appetizer.  After the pálinka, a bottle of wine was quickly opened.  Let’s just say that our glasses were refilled throughout the night.  The food was delicious, and the company was great.

7.  I spent a quiet hour at the refugee camp working with just two kids: “Vera,” a fourteen-year-old girl from Kosovo, and “Ahmed,” a ten-year-old boy from Afghanistan.  I taught them some animal words and gave them a cut-and-paste worksheet.  All three of us colored happily for about twenty minutes.

Vera told me about her dreams of going to America one day.  She was concerned that I might be homesick, which was touching and humbling considering that she has been living in a refugee camp for six years.

Ahmed is a very serious boy.  He smiled when I made animal noises, but didn’t join in.  He learned words rapidly, and it was clear that he is extremely intelligent.  I can picture him becoming an engineer or doctor–if he gets the opportunity to do so.

The future for these children is very uncertain, but if I remind myself to live in the present, then I appreciate that right now they are safe.  They have food, shelter, and clothing.  Considering the state of Ahmed’s homeland, this is not something to be taken for granted.

8.  After a light snowfall, I took a walk in the woods and enjoyed watching the mallards on the half-frozen pond. I was captivated by the patterns and reflections on the water.  The temperature doesn’t stay below freezing long here, so if an inch of snow falls one day, it usually melts the next.

2012 is off to a good start.

First, we went to the Bargello, a former prison.  It was a bit eerie to gaze at sculptures and paintings knowing that hundreds of years ago people were imprisoned and tortured within those stone walls.

The Bargello, Florence

The museum had a fascinating collection of small pieces: jewelry, ivories, coins.  There were also some artifacts from Norman Sicily, which is Jesse’s area of expertise.

The blockbuster pieces, however, were by Donatello.  There was a room full of his work.

I watched a vigilant security guard chastise one man who was sneaking photographs, calling from across the room, “Ah, ah, ah!  No pictures, sir!”  He even shook his finger, as if the man were a naughty primary school student. So, my images are borrowed from Wikipedia.

There were two Davids by Donatello, and the differences between the two are striking.

His marble David from the 1410s was one of his first major commissions.  Some elements of the sculpture hint at his great skill and vision, but David is staring blankly off into space.  Overall, David seems lifeless and medieval.

Marble David by Donatello (Image from Wikipedia)

About three decades later, Donatello did a second David, this one in bronze.  This jaunty prepubescent David seems alive.  He is naked except for the hat on his head.  The effect is unsettling, but the attitude is clear.  This is a Renaissance sculpture.

Bronze David by Donatello (Image from Wikipedia)

These two sculptures helped me appreciate how one artist can change his approach to art over the course of his lifetime.  I am still trying to shake the impression I got in middle school social studies that one day the Middle Ages ended and everyone woke up and decided it was the Renaissance instead.

Last, we went to Santa Croce.  This church has the tombs of Michelangelo and Galileo.

Santa Croce

Tragically, the church and its treasures were severely damaged in a flood in 1966.  Restoration work continues to this day.

One painting that was fully restored was “Christ Descending into Purgatory” by Bronzino.  The colors were luminous.  Each figure had a unique reaction to the appearance of Christ.  It was a huge piece and it took several minutes to fully absorb the story.  For some reason, pictures were permitted, so Jesse took these:

"Christ Descending into Purgatory"

Bronzino's "Christ Descending into Purgatory"

Section from Bronzino's "Christ Descending into Purgatory"

As amazing as the trip was, Jesse and I were exhausted and ready to go home.  I had saturated myself with art, architecture, and the beauty of Tuscany.

I am still in disbelief that over the course of the trip I saw Michelangelo, Raphael, Leonardo, and Donatello. These names have been imprinted on my memory since my days of watching Ninja Turtles.  As a kid, I thought it was a great joke that these cartoon characters were named after Renaissance artists.   Now I have seen great pieces by each of these artists, and I wonder how they would feel to know they’ve been immortalized as turtles!

I left Italy filled with creative energy.  I am currently determined to write a young adult book.

Jesse and I both want to return to Italy as soon as possible, and we booked our tickets almost as soon as we got back to Debrecen–were are going to Sicily the week before Easter.  If I stick with my book idea, I would like to go to Tuscany again in June before we return to the U.S.  We might be broke by the time we make it back to the States, but we will be rich with memories and experiences.

]]> http://hungaryforadventure.wordpress.com/2012/01/18/florence-last-day/feed/ 2 hungaryforadventure Florence Bargello 279px-Donatello,_david_(marmo)_01 399px-Florence_-_David_by_Donatello Florence Santa Croce florence santa croce stained glass florence santa croce coat arms florence santa croce illuminated manuscript florence santa croce music Bronzino Florence santa croce bronzino florence santa croce bronzino iii florence street sign http://hungaryforadventure.wordpress.com/2012/01/15/florence-lost-in-the-uffizi/ http://hungaryforadventure.wordpress.com/2012/01/15/florence-lost-in-the-uffizi/#comments Sun, 15 Jan 2012 06:48:09 +0000 hungary for adventure http://hungaryforadventure.wordpress.com/?p=730 Continue reading →]]> Officially opened to the public in 1765, the Uffizi Gallery was one of the first museums in the modern sense of the word.  It is also notorious for having long lines.  Although the Florence Card allowed us to bypass some of the lines, after we passed through security, we had about fifteen minutes of frustration in which we were just standing in a mass of people.  Any semblance of a line had disappeared.  We Americans were about to have a meltdown, but we made it through.

The museum is huge, but it was still crowded.  Not so crowded that I couldn’t move around comfortably or get close to a painting, but crowded enough that I got separated from Jesse and our friends.  I spent over an hour wandering around the first corridor by myself.  At first I was worried whether I would ever be able to find my husband again.  Soon, though, I was absorbed in the Renaissance masterpieces and stopped worrying.

For me, the diptych of the Duke and Duchess of Urbino by Piero Della Francesca epitomizes the Renaissance elite who were the patrons of artists.  The duchess looks haughty, and the duke has a “don’t mess with me” look in his eyes.  They were so confident in their power and wealth that they didn’t have to appear more beautiful in their portraits than they were in real life.  Although the duke is facing to the left to disguise his missing right eye, the artist didn’t do anything to disguise his hideous nose!

The Duchess of Urbino (Image from Wikipedia)

They were so confident in their power and wealth that they didn’t have to appear more beautiful in their portraits than they were in real life.  Although the duke is facing to the left to disguise his missing right eye, the artist didn’t do anything to disguise his hideous nose!

The Duke of Urbino (Image from Wikipedia)

The Botticelli room was my favorite.  I couldn’t believe that the paintings I’d seen so often in textbooks were hanging in front of me.  I don’t have the vocabulary to properly describe them.

According to my Uffizi guidebook, this painting is actually not depicting the birth of Venus, but rather the arrival of Venus at an island.  She is blown along by Zephryus and Aura and is being welcomed with a flowered cloak.  The colors are soft.  Venus is posing chastely on her shell.  She seems modest but also unaware of her beauty.  The figures are so graceful.

The Birth of Venus by Botticelli (From Wikipedia)

There was quite a crowd around Primavera (Spring).  I eavesdropped on a tour being given in English.  This painting is also full of figures from mythology and can be interpreted in many different ways.  I love the translucent material of the dresses, as well as the beautiful expressions on the Three Graces’ faces.

Primavera by Botticelli (Image from Wikipedia)

The Annunciation was a popular subject in Renaissance art.  I like Botticelli’s the best.  Gabriel clearly has an important message to deliver, and Mary is almost shrinking away from him, shocked by the appearance of the angel and uncertain about the role for which God has selected her.

The Annunciation by Botticelli (image from Wikipedia)

The painting that captivated me the most is one by Botticelli’s master, Fra’ Filippo Lippi.  I was not familiar with this artist before going to Florence, but he is one of the greats.

Madonna with Child and Two Angels by Lippi (Image from Wikipedia)

This Madonna’s profile stuck in my mind.  She has such a gentle face and sad eyes.   Lippi’s skill is evident in the Madonna’s hair, which is piled on her head, decorated with pearls, and covered with a sheer veil.

How did Lippi paint such magnificent beauty? I purchased a book about the Uffizi on my way out of the museum and turned to this painting right away.  Lippi was in love with the model, who was both a nun and the mother of his son.

In the end, I was reunited with my group.  Jesse and I both had our cellphones with us, so I couldn’t have lost him forever, but when I emerged from the First Corridor I did panic a bit as I surveyed the mass of people and no redhead was in sight.  Turns out my group had gone through two corridors in the time that I did one.

I don’t know as much about the Renaissance or art history as I would like to, but I left the Uffizi eager to learn more.

Thanks to Bobby, we found the stop, and soon we were on the bus, zipping up the hills to Fiesole.

We spent the day looking at churches and walking around the hills of Tuscany.  The weather was splendid.  At lunchtime, we sat outside and I was comfortable in just my turtleneck.

We had the chance to inspect olive trees up close.  This was the first time I’d seen olives growing on a tree.  Jesse persuaded me to taste one, even though I knew they wouldn’t taste good before being cured.  It was disgusting, but at least now I know.

This nun reclining on the wall and taking in the view seemed to capture the essence of Tuscany.  She was radiating peace and serenity.

She also sensed that Jesse was taking her picture and smiled obligingly.

Kellie set up her camera to take a picture of all four of us:

We spent quite a bit of time at the Convent of San Francesco.  The interior of the church was tranquil, small, and relatively plain.

We could peek into the monks’ cells, including San Bernardino of Siena’s.  One of his miracles was prematurely aging because he was so devout.  According to Wikipedia, he caught the plague but survived, which may also have affected his aging.

I could imagine the monks walking through the cloisters and sitting in their cells praying.

The convent also housed a small museum that included Etruscan and Roman artifacts found in Fiesole, an Egyptian mummy, and objects from China.  (The mummy and the Chinese pieces were brought back from missions by the Franciscans.)

We passed more churches tucked away in the hills.

The silvery leaves of the trees in an olive grove were breathtaking.

I really should just let the pictures speak for themselves: a day full of sunshine, nature, and historic churches is hard to top.

Fore more pictures of Fiesole, please check out these blogs:

Kellie’s Blog

Bobby’s Blog

My palms were sweating as we went through security at the Academy.  Not because I was trying to sneak any prohibited items into the museum, but because I felt like I was about to meet a celebrity.

As soon as we were in the museum, I couldn’t resist going straight to David.  After seeing so many images of him in pop culture, I was worried that I wouldn’t be impressed by the real thing.  As I approached this famous statue, all my anxiety dissipated.

I couldn’t believe that something so beautiful was carved out of a piece of marble.  The pose is so perfect and natural.  He is calmly assessing his enemy, prepared to use his intellect to take out the giant Goliath.  (Jesse and I had a debate about whether the statue is showing Daivd before or after killing Goliath, and I maintain that it is before.)

He is frozen in one pose for eternity, but I could imagine him coming to life and slinging his stone at any moment.

The details on his hands and his muscles are just amazing.  The veins on his arms and hands seem as if they really have blood flowing through them.

Michelangelo's David (Wikipedia)

The years in which Michelangelo carved David were turbulent ones for the city.  When he was unveiled, Florentines immediately recognized David as a symbol of their republic.  He has been an honored citizen of Florence ever since.  The Accademy was built in the nineteenth century solely to house this treasured sculpture.

We paid €50 each for the Florence card, a three day pass giving us free admission to almost every museum in the city as well as unlimited use of public transportation.  I felt like I got my money’s worth after seeing just one sculpture.

After gawking at David for fifteen or twenty minutes, Jesse and I did view the rest of the art in the museum.

Next, we climbed Giotto’s bell tower at Santa Maria del Fiore.  The bell tower has more steps than the Leaning Tower of Pisa, so it was quite a climb.  Also, no one monitored when you could go up or down, so there were traffic jams on the narrow staircase.  This definitely pushed the limits of my tolerance for confined spaces, and I am in no hurry to do it again any time soon, although the view at the top was great.

After that, we went to the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence’s town hall.  Cosimo I, Grand Duke of Tuscany, decided to move in for awhile in the 1500s, before the Medicis built the Pitti Palace on the other side of the Arno.  The museum shows the various apartments that were designed for his family.

From the Palazzo Vecchio, we headed to the Strozzi, another museum housed in the former palace of a powerful Florentine family.  The exhibit was about the relationship between banking, politics, and art in Renaissance Florence.  It was designed to tell a story, and it succeeded in placing the great pieces of art in the context of the time in which they were created.

When we finished with our third museum of the day, the sun was setting, and we snapped several pictures by the Arno.  The white shapes seem to be a protective covering for the olive trees in the street.

The Ponte Vecchio at dusk

We met our friends/fellow CETP teachers for dinner that evening.  For some beautiful pictures of Florence, please peruse their blogs:

Bobby’s Blog

Kellie’s Blog

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