|Dead center, right above the glowing ring of street lamps is the moon. |
Here, it looks like a tiny speck, but in real life, it was so huge, it stopped me in my tracks.
My mom and I had huge crushes on Nicolas Cage in the late 80s, spurred by his turn as a hang-dog sexy Italian baker in Moonstruck. I've thought of that movie several times since I've been in Italy because the moonglow has been so bright and intoxicating that it consistently rouses me at 3 am, when the moon hits my eye like a big pizza pie of astral formaggio.
The first night we were in Florence, I begged Christine to go to my favorite trattoria. The thing is, I never remember the name correctly and I never remember the exact location. It's more like threading my way through the streets and busy pedestrians, licking my finger and holding it up, seeing which way the wind blows me. The odd thing is that I've found this particular place in the same fashion every single time I've been in Florence. So, in that way, I felt fairly confident that eventually we'd find it.
Armed with a map and a vague idea of the location of the Duomo, Christine and I set out. "It's called the Wolf and the Cat, I think," I said. "I think it's this way." At each corner, I scratched my head and pointed. "Or that way."
"Well, we can see if we find it and if not, I'm sure there are other places," Christine said patiently. And there are other places, but I was determined to find this one.
"I think it's near the Bargello?" I said, without much conviction.
Somewhere along the Proconsolo, I stopped and shrugged. "Maybe we'll just go one more block," I said, "and then I'm cool with just stopping anywhere."
"You sure?" Christine asked. I nodded. "Okay then," she said, "wanna turn down that next block?"
I looked left down the small alley next to us and said, "Hey, look at the moon!" It was like a giant orange harvest moon, and it beckoned me toward it. "Let's just go this way 'coz the moon is so pretty," I said, "then we'll turn at the next corner."
And wouldn't you know Il Gatto & La Volpe was right there, waiting for us.
Thank you, Cosmo's moon. La bella luna...