Today was a "down" day - no planned excursions. We ate breakfast in the hotel and returned to the room to read and relax. I updated my BLOG entry for yesterday and went in search of an upload point. Figuring to make use of some internet time we had already bought at the local chain of Internet cafes, I copied the files to my little pen-disk flash drive and logged on. The computer recognized the flash drive right away, but the proprietors had so crippled the machine in an effort to prevent customers from fouling things up that I found I could not transfer the files to my FTP server - the machine had no FTP client installed, and I could not install one myself. I tried various ways of logging into the server but wound up only running the meter without getting anywhere. I did have my laptop with me, but this office of the chain could not accommodate me with a hookup. I left in disgust.

We ate lunch at Ristorante il Ritrovo, a wonderful subterranean bistro just down the street from the Duomo. It was an elegant dining experience. They have two fixed-price lunch menus, or you can order a la carte. The Chef himself came out to inform us of the day's offerings in fluent, if accented, English. The wait staff were courteous and efficient, and the food was excellent - their antipasto platter was fabulous, and I also had gnocchi with a crab cream sauce - YUM. Don't pass it up if you are in town.

After lunch, determined to achieve my goal (I am ever the control freak and defiant individualist), I resolved to retry the Wi-Fi zones at the two big hotels in the Piazza di Ognisanti, since although the Concierge had told me coverage was restricted to guest rooms, my literature suggested otherwise. I parked myself in the lobby of the Westin Excelsior Hotel, plugged in and booted, and sure enough, my wireless card picked up a signal!! Flush with success, I logged onto the network and was immediately informed that my credit had expired - this on a 5-hour card that I had used only for 45 minutes in Rome! I left in disgust.

I next went to another nearby office of the Internet chain where I had previously hooked up the laptop for the initial BLOG upload. I found it after only one wrong turn, but it was closed and would not reopen until 16:00 - this at about 15:30, and I had arranged to meet my wife at the Ponte Vecchio at 16:00. I left in disgust.

Finally, I found another office open on the Via Porto Rosso, hooked up the laptop, and updated the BLOG. I left in disgust that it had taken me 2-½ hours to accomplish a 5-minute upload, tempered by the sweet and sour taste of Pyrrhic victory.

I met my wife at the anointed hour and we crossed the Ponte Vecchio. This bridge is packed from the northern to the southern banks of the Arno and back with gold and jewelry shops. DO NOT come here to buy anything without first arranging a substantial line of credit... Everything was exquisitely manufactured and displayed, but the prices were so high as to induce a gag reflex.

In the center of the bridge is a statue of Cellini, the greatest of all the Renaissance goldsmiths. On the iron gates protecting him from the masses hang clusters of padlocks. A tradition here holds that a young man demonstrates the faithful quality of his love by inscribing his dearest's name on the lock, fastening it to the gates, and throwing the key into the Arno. Touching, but what were those combination locks doing there...? I had no lock of my own, but I do carry around the ol' ball and chain, have been for the last 25 years. Lest you infer that I feel imprisoned, let me assure you that the metaphor comes from an old Ricky Skaggs bluegrass tune entitled Love Don't Feel Like a Ball and Chain to Me, whose refrain goes:

Anyway, we proceeded across the Arno for an ad hoc visit to the Chiesa Santo Spirito  (Church of the Holy Spirit), which I had selected more or less at random from the map. When we arrived my wife, ever intimately knowledgeable of the guidebook contents, showed me pages and pages of descriptions of its history, construction, and contents. It turns out an Augustinian monastery was built on the site in the 13^th century, long before the church was erected. Circa 1434, the immortal Bruneschelli was commissioned to produce the church's design, which he did deliver, but he never lived to see it built, dying just two years after executing the plans. The church was completed in the mid 1490's. The rough stone exterior was subsequently plastered over, and today it is painted a drab tan color and is completely unadorned. The only hint of the splendor within is the ornately decorated dome atop the interior transept. At the time of our visit, however, one whole side was covered with scaffolding, further disguising the church's 15^th century origins.

The interior is astonishingly open, and one is struck by a sense of tremendous space. The architect achieved this effect by liberal use of columns and vaulted arches. There are 39, count 'em, 39 distinct chapels dimpling every available length of wall space, each decorated with unique and priceless works of art from dozens of Renaissance masters, staggering in number and detail. Each chapel comprised a centerpiece painting averaging 3-4 meters in height and 2 meters in width, along with other statuary, busts, antependia, frescos, and ironworks. Regrettably, many of the paintings are in a deplorable state of conservation and are in desperate need of restoration. This is horrifically expensive work, and I tried unsuccessfully to estimate the cost - ran out of fingers and toes way too early.

It took almost two hours to make our way around the interior periphery, even spending just a few minutes at each chapel. At the end, we entered the sacristy, where hangs a unique crucifix attributed to Michelangelo. This unusual work stands in stark contrast to the master's statuary we earlier viewed in the Academy. The latter works demonstrate Michelangelo's superb grasp of human anatomy and exude a robust and straining vitality. But the crucifix displays Christ's body upon the cross in a totally different manner. The body is slender, almost boyish, and while the muscular contours are definitely faithful to human anatomy, they are subdued and smooth, without the raw, bulging masculine contours of the Prisoners in the Academy, indeed, verging on the feminine in contour and smoothness. The wooden carving of the corpus has a golden-bronze hued patina, lending an additional otherworldly and somber overtone to the scene.

We spent a couple of hours at the hotel relaxing and reading, then dressed for dinner, once again at the Osteria del Porcellino, where we ate last night. The ambience and food were again superb. We ended the evening with gelato and a stroll around the Piazza Repubblica, then retired for the night.

Have I mentioned the gelato (ice cream) here? It is to die for...