Start of a day full of Wonder

Lying in bed in a big room. Must be more than 20 beds nearly all occupied.

Thinking about yesterday, what a day, and whether to take up Josh’s invite to head off together to Cinque Terre today.

He asked me late last night on the terrace. We’d both had big, enjoyable days. Me, in Florence and he, in Venice. We’d met briefly that morning and shared what we had planned for the day. He was taking a train to Venice (and back), me, the Uffizi and the Accademia.

I couldn’t decide last night. It was midnight after a huge day, my third in Florence, 3 weeks in Europe so far, all in Italy. It wasn’t the plan, yet I’d fallen in love with the place, the people, the culture, the scenery. Basically, everything about the country.

Nearly everything that happened yesterday was unplanned, like most of my trip so far.

It did start as planned. Met Keiko at her hostel (a young Japanese girl, travelling by herself).

Plan was to book the Uffizi for early afternoon, to avoid the long queues and walk around downtown Florence in between. After making the booking, we walked into the main square and saw a demonstration, with music, placards and 000’s marching. I went across to see what it was about. It was to “Free Tibet”.

I had developed an interest in their cause from reading the Dalai Lama’s teachings. I knew that the Chinese had invaded in the 50’s, destroyed many of the Buddhism temples and were absorbing it into their country, without any real objection from the global community.

I was curious as to why they were protesting in Florence (Italy) and asked one of the organisers. She said because the Dalai Lama was in the city today!

Well, what a wonderful serendipitous co-incidence. In the same place at the same time, as one of the people I most respect in the world! I explained to the lady my interest in Tibetan Buddhism and how much I liked his teachings. She said that there was a public reception for him later in the day and there may be some tickets left!

Wow! I asked where I could find out, and she pointed towards the other end of the square where there was a tent set up and the name of a lady to speak to. Off I went, with Keiko trying to keep up. I asked for the lady by name. She came forward from the back of the tent, and, after I explained, she said, “you are lucky, we only have two tickets left”. Double wow!

She gave me two invitation cards. They looked very formal, embossed and beautifully printed. Could this really be for the City of Florence’s official reception for the Dalai Lama?

Feeling very excited and yet still not believing it all, Keiko and I went off to the Uffizi Museum. It was lovely distraction. Mostly Roman Catholic art – icons, Madonna and Child and pre-Renaissance paintings.

The reception was at 5pm, so we sat and took in the afternoon sun in the square. Not being able to wait any longer, we walked up to the main door of the Town hall, where a couple of burly security guards stood. I was very conscious of our casual wear. Luckily neither of us were in shorts. Me, in jeans and Keiko, a knee-length dress. With my heart in my mouth (and in my best Italian), I asked if we were in the right place and held out the invitation.

Si, signor, was the answer! He stepped aside and the other opened the heavy door, saying, “buona sera signorina”!

We looked at one another, in disbelief, as we climbed the glorious staircase. It was lined with large paintings and statues on each side at the top. It led into a large open space, with oo’s of chairs facing a stage and a podium. There were many police in a variety of uniforms, near the stage and at the rear. In fact, more than there were people in the seats! I suggested to Keiko that we sit near the rear and in the middle of the row. I didn’t want to be conspicuous as I was still self-conscious about my attire and guessed that she’d want to be away from the aisleway. I could tell that she was excited though she said very little or showed any emotion.

We sat quietly as more and more people came in. Mostly stylishly dressed and speaking Italian. Also, men with large expensive cameras and others carrying lights on stands. Then in marched a group of men in Medieval costumes, carrying period trumpets.

There was an overwhelming atmosphere of excitement and expectation.

After some time of murmured conversations, there was some movement behind us. The police were forming two lines from a door at the rear, towards the aisle leading to the stage. The cameramen raced for a vantage point, followed by the men with lights. The trumpeters took up positions each side of the aisle. The crowd noise subsided, heads were turned, and the lights came on.

Then out of the doorway came a group of monks, in the customary brown cloaks, with men in suits between them and then a small man in a purple and yellow robe. The men and their cameras went into a frenzy. Following the groups, pointing the cameras over the monk’s heads, walking backwards, nearly falling over. The trumpets started and the glorious sound reverberated throughout the hall. We all stood up as one. It was if we were all lifted by the sound and the overwhelming atmosphere.

The parade passed down the aisleway. I caught a glimpse of The Man. He was smiling widely, nodding to each of the trumpeters as he passed. The monks moved away and took up their seats in the front row. The cameramen squeezed into the aisle, keen to get yet another photo. It was all so surreal. I felt very privileged to be there, an “outsider” witnessing such pomp and pageantry. He looked like he felt the same. Overwhelmed, a little embarrassed, humbly acknowledging those on the end of each aisle.

The trumpets fell silent, as The Man steeped onto the stage, firstly greeting an attractive blonde woman and then the others who rose from their chairs on the stage.