A Tale of Three Cities: Part I, FLORENCE

Tale of Three Cities – In three parts
Florence, Rome, and Naples. In three weeks, we have visited these three cities, each of which reflects a different face of Italy; sharper contrasts would be difficult to find, even in this country of contrasts.

Part 1 of 3 – Florence, the Renaissance city.
Florence (Firenze) in many ways is the heart of Italy’s past. Birthplace or adopted home of artists, scientists, writers, it is the quintessential Renaissance city. Every corner, alley, and piazza reveal the richness of this period. While the compactness of Florence makes it quite easy to explore on foot, its windy streets and alleys confuse the tourist nearly as much as those of Venice.

Friday, 24 October. We arrived around noon and made the mistake of exiting Santa Maria Novella train station on the side, which put us in the wrong direction for the centro (city center) and our hotel. Abbey now insists that we go in the opposite direction of what I suggest! Rather unfair, I say. After some meandering, we found ourselves at the Duomo – a breath-taking sight. Emma had her back to it at first, gabbing at me about some candy she had seen in a store window and waving at some of our CIMBA students across the street; I turned her around, and her jaw dropped. “Wow,” she whispered – then silence for a full 30 seconds, a rarity for Emma.
The multi-marbled building with Brunelleschi’s dome that defied engineering concepts at the time is only one of many sights that leaves one in awe of Florence’s Renaissance artistry. Referred to as the Duomo, the church is named Santa Maria del Fiore and is the 4th largest in Europe. Its appearance today evolved over several centuries : original 4th century bronze Baptistry doors; 13th century ceiling mosaics and Ghiberti’s and Pisano’s “Gates of Paradise” replacement doors (1401) of the Baptistry; the terra cotta Dome completed in 1463; the red, green, and white Tuscan marble facade added in the 1800's. Scarcely paying attention to the throngs on the sidewalks, we stared at the Duomo as we walked around it to get to the hotel, located on a quiet side street about 3 blocks from its Piazza or square.
Naturally I missed the street we were to turn onto; asking a café owner “Dove via Borga del Albizi?” I was excited to readily understand his response, only to realize that my understanding resulted not from any increased skill with Italian on my part but from hearing a Florentine speak. The dialect of the north, at least in the Veneto, often confuses even Silvia and Michela, our Italian language faculty who are native Italians! Florence, however, has long been regarded as the place to learn Italian, where the “purest” Italian is spoken, though some argue Siena, once Florence’s rival, is where one should study the language. All I know is that I appreciated being able to communicate in Italian, rudimentary though it was.
We found our hotel building by its number on the wall, though it took some investigating to find where precisely the hotel was in that building – a centuries’ old palazzo (palace). We entered through a tall wrought iron gate that led to a gardened courtyard. Okay, now where? We finally spotted Albergo Bavaria next to a flight of stairs, make that several flights of stairs. “When will I remember that Europeans number the first floor or piano as 0, that floor 1 is what we would call floor 2?” I thought to myself. I did recall, with a sigh, that our hotel was on piano 2, floor 3. Grrr. With a few missed turns, including one into a pricey art store (oops), we found the reception desk, staffed by relatively young, energetic people.
After registering our passports (requirement in Italy), the woman took us to our room – up another level of stairs, old stairs made of solid stone that I could imagine 15th century workers hauling up from the cobblestone street, sweating profusely as they positioned each block, chiseling edges to fit the pieces into place. Another door at the top of the stairs opened into a huge sitting room with 20 foot ceilings, walls with mirrors and reproductions of Uffizi and Pitti Palace art, and tiled floors. A table and chairs looked like they originated in the late Medieval period while a couch and chair were distinctly high Victorian. Down a long hallway, up a short (thankfully) flight of steps, we finally arrived at our room. Roomy with 3 beds, a wardrobe, night stands, good-sized bathroom, and best of all, a close-up view of the Dome from both long windows! I couldn’t help wonder how people ever found their way around these palazzi !! I also wondered what a 3, 4, or 5 star hotel would be like as Albergo Bavaria was considered “budget” and was indeed very affordable!
First on the to-do list: lunch. It was 1:00, and we had left the apartment early that morning to catch the train from Castelfranco to Padua with a change to Florence. Despite warnings from the travel guides about cafés on the major piazzi, we stopped at the first place we came to, with a first-rate view of the Duomo and the Piazza. We had a wonderful lunch outside (weather was a balmy 70 degrees F), shared a bottle of Tuscan Merlot, and yes, paid too much. Nevertheless, our stomachs were pleasantly filled, and we had the energy to explore the Duomo.
Inside the church, we found a reverent quiet, despite the many people there. Artistry exists wherever one looks: sculpted columns; frescoes or paintings on the walls; inlaid marble floor; altars intricately carved with some parts painted and others gilded in gold. The offset chapels within are richly decorated in high Renaissance style. Biblical stories come to life in frescoes and paintings, often with prominent contemporaries of the artists subtly inserted in a corner or two. The line to climb to the Dome was long, so we decided to see if we could advance our reserved entry to the Accademia, visited primarily for Michelangelo’s David.
We left the Duomo to get to the Accademia, running into more of our students on the way (Florence was a popular get-away for the travel weekend). Although ahead of our appointment time, we were allowed inside. A couple of rooms of religious iconography and gilded altars – then David. I had been here 20 years ago and remembered being awed by the marble statue; I was in awe again. David is indeed larger than life, in more ways than one. The fluidity and grace are remarkable given the solidity of marble as a medium.
On the way back to the hotel, the Dome’s line had disappeared, a perfect time to climb the Duomo’s dome for a view of the city on high. Up, up, and up. I think there are as many steps as there are for Nôtre-Dame in Paris!!! Breathless, we reached the top. Despite the haze in the distance, the view was wonderful. Terra-cotta rooftops, gentle mountains, Piazzale Michelangelo and Santa Croce to the southeast, Fiesole to the north. Somehow the camera couldn’t capture the view as we saw it. What was perhaps most impressive was the ceiling of the Dome. 16th century Last Judgment frescoes dominated the Dome’s ceiling. On the way up, we could circle the Dome at one level, seeing the explicitly brutal representations of sinners and non-believers condemned to eternal damnation; on the way down, we circled it at an even closer level. No wonder the church had been able to keep the illiterate masses in line for so long, I thought. The scenes were right out of Dante’s Inferno, complete with personal messages to contemporaries who insulted the artists or committed major socio-political faux pas.
Tired from studying, Abbey decided to go to bed early that night, so Tim, Emma, and I went to a recommended restaurant a block and a half from our hotel. We splurged and ordered biftek florentine – the best steak you could ever imagine. I remembered how much I loved it the last time I was in Florence; it was just as good this time. The three of us enjoyed it; Emma loved her Tuscan soup; we all relaxed in the small, cozy restaurant. Italian, English, and German languages mixed together, yet everyone spoke the same in savoring good food, wine, and community. Later we enjoyed a lovely passagiata (stroll) through several of the piazzas. It was 10 at night, comfortably warm, and Florentines and tourists alike were enjoying the favorite Italian evening pastime. Children played with lit whirly-gigs while parents talked; couples linked arms and quietly meandered; older people stood or sat at café tables, remembering the passagiati of their youth. The crescent moon glimmered over the Arno and the Duomo as we made our way back to the hotel.

Saturday, 25 October. The next morning, after a satisfying breakfast featuring the same wonderful yogurt we had at Rapallo, we headed to the Pitti Palace, an art museum across the Arno. Built by the Pitti family in 1549, this palazzo began as a competition to out-do the de Medicis; however, the Pittis went bankrupt a few years after beginning it, and ironically, the de Medicis bought it. Now a renowned museum featuring a variety of Italian artists and sculptors, it also has a costume section and beautiful gardens, Boboli Gardens, that rival Longwood. Featuring traditional Renaissance art in the Palantine Gallery, such as Raphael's Woman with a Veil, the disturbing Martyrdom of St. Agatha by Sebastiano del Piombo, and others by TItian, Ruebens, and Correggio, I found that the Gallery of Modern Art was more interesting. At first I wasn't going to explore this part of the Pitti since I don't care for Modern Art, but Florence's version of modern is 18th and 19th century, including some by Antonio Canova, who was born and lived in Possagno, a small town near Paderno. I fell in love with many of the works, getting a few small prints as mementos. As with most palaces, the interior itself is as impressive as the art, including the family’s quarters that we were able to see. Sumptuous ballrooms, lavish bedchambers, and art everywhere – no chintzy Target reproductions either!
Hungry after a full morning at Pitti Palace, we crossed back over Ponte Vecchio, which was much more alive at noon than it was at 9 in the morning. People snapped pictures from every angle; I laughed at them and did the same. Interesting, I didn’t remember as many “chintzy” jewelry shops there the last time; however, some quality stores are still on the bridge, although most are on small streets away from the bridge. We found a pleasant restaurant near Piazza Vecchio, and Abbey decided that since she missed out on the Tuscan steak the night before she would have some for lunch. The waiter explained that the portion would be large, more appropriate for two people, but she wanted it. While I had Tuscan tomato soup and Emma had vegetable soup and Tim had a house specialty, Abbey found herself with a huge, beautifully rare steak (though the server, not our waiter, tried to give it to Tim, not believing a “girl” could eat it). Eat it, she did – all of it. When our waiter returned, he looked astonished at the empty plate with only the steak bone, and then shouted “Bravo!!!” As Abbey left the restaurant, she received a number of admiring smiles and nods from the rest of the staff. Evidently they aren’t familiar with the appetite of a 19-year old who was not going to miss out on a Tuscan steak!
Our plan had been to see the Science Museum that afternoon, but unfortunately it was closed. It wasn’t supposed to be, but, well, it’s Italy. Normale. So we did the next best thing – shop! Although Florence is not a city for the budget-conscious, it also is not exorbitant and does offer quality, hand-crafted Italian goods, such as silk scarves; leather purses, bags, gloves, and coats; jewelry; paper goods; decent art prints. Abbey and I found some stylish yet practical Italian leather boots; Tim got two nice pairs of shoes; and I splurged on a 3/4 length leather coat that cost less than a Kohl’s special! Between the markets and the Italian/French/Spanish department store chains, we all did well: warm sweaters for Tim and Emma (the Veneto is cold earlier than Tuscany); pants for Abbey; a pair of jeans for me; gifts for family and friends back home.
Dinner that night was a block from the hotel, and we had some more typical Tuscan fare. Emma has become addicted to Tuscan vegetable soup, a variation of the Americanized pasta fagiole soup, but much heartier and richer. Tim experimented with I’m not sure what sort of meat; Abbey and I enjoyed our favorite – pasta with a creamy pesto-like sauce. Chianti, of course, for Tuscany. Too full for dolci (dessert), we enjoyed a stroll through Piazzi (squares) Vecchio and Duomo. The moon was almost full, with a clear sky affording memorable glimpses of Florentine rooftops and silhouettes. Dinner settled nicely, and the miles of walking that day took their toll. By 11:30, with the many piazzi still lively, we were ready for sleep.

Sunday, 26 October. A beautiful morning on Sunday; we were up early for our scheduled visit to the Uffizi. Not entirely rested, however, as we had done battle with zanzari (mosquitoes), the night before. Abbey had complained about them the night before, but we laughed it off, telling her she was much sweeter than the rest of us. Well, that night, the mosquitoes found all of us. These are nasty little things that like to fly into rooms (such beautiful weather, we had the windows open all day and night) and suck as much blood as possible from humans simply trying to get a good night’s sleep. We embarked on a mosquito killing rampage that morning, wondering how to explain the spots of blood on the walls where our aim was true. Itching, we consoled ourselves with another good breakfast and the thought of the Uffizi.
Our appointed entrance time was 9:30, the museum opening then. About 6 blocks from our hotel and just past Palazzo Vecchio, the Uffizi sits by the Arno. It was built by Giorgio Vasari for Cosimo I de Medici in 1560. Its arcaded entrance protects the lines from sun and rain; although no protection was needed this morning, I was amazed to see how long the lines were. Late October, not the height of tourist season, at 9:30 am, the line was at least an hour long. With reserved times, we simply went to a separate window to give our number, paid for our tickets, and then into the museum directly following a security check (now required at all museums).
Up several flights of stairs (the higher level wise for the few times the Arno overflowed its banks and flooded the city), the beautiful collection of the Uffizi is housed on one floor. Off a continuous U-shaped corridor, are several salons or rooms that showcase particular works. Vasari designed the corridor to emphasize with cornice perspectives its length. Again, we stood for several minutes simply looking at the ceiling, which was as beautiful as I had remembered. I looked more closely this time and realized that some of the images, though delicately wrought, were rather quirky – little gnome-like creatures with suspicious-looking smiles or impish ogres masquerading as angels. Hmmm, makes one wonder about the artists.
Botticelli's Birth of Venus and Primavera (Spring); Ucello's Battle of San Ramono; da Vinci's The Annunciation and Adoration of the Magi; Michelangelo's Doni Tonda; Caravaggio's Medusa; Raphael's Madonna of the Goldfinch; and many, many more artists from all around Italy and Europe.
Walking in the broad sun-filled corridor with its collection of ancient statues and busts, I recalled the film, Tea with Mussolini, especially scenes of Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, and Joan Plowright. working to restore the artwork and that community of women, British expatriates plus the Americans, played by Cher and Lily Tomlin, who banded together to prevent the soldiers from ransacking the museum. A fictional story, despite its historic setting, I couldn’t help but think I would have been standing with those ladies, a part of that human barricade.
Following a light lunch was an afternoon of shopping and exploring. Santa Croce church, a few blocks south of the hotel, may not be as grand as the Duomo, but it is as breathtaking. The interior is tastefully lavish; rather than what seems in many churches to showcase as much art from as many periods and with as many themes as possible, Santa Croce’s decor might even be called understated in comparison. Featuring the resting places of Galileo, Dante, and light, colorful frescoes and art, the church uplifted the spirits quite differently than the others have. Scenes from A Room with a View (both Forster’s novel and Merchant's and Ivory's film) popped into my head as we quietly explored the church and then its courtyard and catacombs.
A warm afternoon, the evening cooled off slowly, and we had a lovely dinner outside with table-top candles and patio lamps, just off a small square. The maitre d’ was an old man who was either deaf or unable to speak or articulate. He clearly loved his job of seating people at this small, cozy restaurant. A group of 6 or 7 women from the UK were there, obvious their second or third time for dinner. After seating them, he purchased a rose for each one from a passing street “florist”; he could have been a handsome, young Italian courting them all, so delighted were they by his gift. Their delight, however, was his. After a wonderful meal with wonderful wine, we left; our maitre d’ was there to shake our hands, and the girls and I kissed him with a “grazie mille” and “arrivederci” on either cheek in Italian style. He smiled the biggest smile I ever saw. Later that evening as we passed by the restaurant, he was still smiling.
Sunday night brought out as many people as the other nights did, helped, I am sure, by the 60 degree temperatures and starry skies. Everywhere, communities of people gathered, small and large groups, mingling from one group to another. Street musicians at every corner contributed to the ambience, and we became part of an appreciative audience of a soloist and her accompanist to listen to arias and ballads from all times and cultures. She moved Abbey, who bought her CD, and I think it is she who inspired Abbey to perform “O mio babbino caro” at the talent night a month later.

Monday, 27 October. Because we were still on a T/Th teaching schedule, we could stay until Monday to enjoy some more time in Florence. We packed after breakfast and then headed for the Science Museum, which offered reduced admission price because of renovations that closed part of it off. However, what we wanted to see was still open – Florence’s tribute to Galileo. Once despised by many, banned from his Florentine home, and excommunicated from the Catholic Church for his heliocentric theory, Galileo has earned in death what he could not in life: respect and honor. We learned about astronomy of Renaissance and how the various telescopes were constructed and what all one could see with them, including some moons of Jupiter and rings of Saturn. I realized that my ignorance in physics made understanding the telescope concepts difficult at times but did not ruin my appreciation for the breakthroughs in science so significant in the Renaissance. Short video presentations in multiple languages, including English, provided information in a quick and painless tutorial. Why don’t we in the States have exhibits in varied languages at our historic sites?
Bags in tow, we made our way back to Santa Maria Novella train station, stopping to buy a few more gifts; suitcases were significantly heavier with our shopping purchases. We arrived early enough to get luggage space on the Eurostar back to Padua. On to Castelfranco and the car and Paderno. Only three hours later to home in the Veneto, yet worlds away from the Renaissance world of Florence.