“When it came down to it, even working was better than trudging round Florence as a tourist in a strange city. “ (Marshal Garnaccia, in The Marshal and the Madwoman by Magdalen Nabb)
I won’t go quite as far a Marshal Garnaccia (a Columbo-esque character in a popular mystery series) but after five days in Firenze (Florence) I am experiencing a bit of tourist fatigue. It is not so much I am tired of being “a tourist in a strange city,” as I am tired of being surrounded by hoards of tourists. Many of the tourists in Florence right now are Italians, Asians, and American students finishing up their semesters abroad. (I overheard three young Americans express with anguish, “this is our last gelato before we go home!”)
I am glad we had five days in Florence. We tried to see one or two cultural sites each day, and then we were content to sit and eat gelato with everyone else. We stayed at an interesting “hotel” called Residenza Della Signoria, located midway between Duomo and Piazza della Signoria. It was just seven nicely renovated rooms on the 4th floor of renovated building right in the thick of historical Florence. On our first day, we simply walked many miles in the drizzly rain and tried to get our bearings. Josh, who is a passionate Assassin’s Creed (videogame set in Renaissance Italy) fan, was enjoying recognizing landmarks around town.
The tradition of Weihnachtsmarkt, or Christmas markets, that started in Germany, has spread all the way down into Italy. Every city we have visited since Vienna, has had a Christmas market. The one in Florence is set up in front of the Santa Croce Church. It has traditional German crafts and foods along with an assortment of venders hocking goods from other cultures. My favorite multicultural mash-up for this city was the Guinness Memorabilia vendor, in the German Christmas Market in Piazza Santa Croce.
On our second day, we met up with Robert Croghan, a student from Gustavus who is spending the semester in Florence studying design. Robert’s mother is from Italy, so in addition to this past term, he has spent a significant amount of time in Italy. Needless to say, we were most happy to have him as our tour guide for the day. He guided us through the San Lorenzo Market (open air market – lots of leather) and the Mercato Central – the wonderland of all things edible. After a quick stop at the train station, where we were given the unpleasant news that there was a scheduled train strike for the Friday we were set to leave Florence, we headed across the Arno River to the Santo Spirito neighborhood, and one of the best pizza places in Florence. We then wandered back over the Ponte Vecchio Bridge and down to Piazza Santa Croce, stopping only because we needed to sample the gelato at Robert’s favorite Geloteria. This time, in addition to a stroll through the Christmas market, we went into the Church. This 14th Century church is decorated with centuries of precious art and also holds the tombs of Galileo Galilei and Michelangelo Buonarroti (who, in the same vein as Cher or Madonna, don’t really require last names for clarity of reference). After exiting the main sanctuary (right between the tombs of Rossi and Machiavelli) is a lovely and quiet courtyard.
Reluctantly, we let our tour guide leave to attend his evening class, and Josh and I rested for a bit, and then went to our favorite neighborhood restaurant, Birreria Centrale.
The next morning, Josh and I hopped on a train and headed to Pisa. It was most liberating to get on a train sans heavy suitcase. It was, again, drizzling, but still an enjoyable ride. We walked from the Pisa Centrale train station to the “Field of Miracles,” trying to ward off the umbrella vendors. Once our lunch had settled we headed into the ticket office where I set out to buy 15 Euro ticket for Josh to climb up the Leaning Tower. Unfortunately, I did not read the rules first, and was admonished by the ticket seller, that “NO ONE” under 18, was allowed to climb the tower unless accompanied by an adult. (And, if they are under 12, they must have their hand held at all times.) I don’t do well going up when things are vertical so I knew that tower was out of the picture for me. Josh was disappointed, I did not think quickly enough to snag a friendly looking stranger to accompany him, and we headed back to the train station. We were going to stop in Lucca on the way home, but we were tired and a thick fog was settling on the area. We decided Lucca would need to wait for a future visit.
Our last full day in Florence, I wanted to see Uffizi Gallery and Accademia, and Josh wanted to climb Duomo’s dome. Designed by Brunelleschi, it was the first Renaissance dome, and the model for many that followed.
In the morning, I went to Uffizi (considered the greatest collection of Italian painters anywhere featuring Giotto, Leonardo, Raphael, Caravaggio, Rubens, Michelangelo, Botticelli and one of my personal favorites - Artemisia Gentileschi) while Josh was still asleep, and once he was up and moving we set out to climb the dome. Now I knew this was foolish for me to even attempt – but since Josh did not get to climb the tower in Pisa I wanted him to do this. Plus, I figured it was mostly inside, and I could manage it. Let’s just say I was wrong on many accounts. I did make it to the top, took one peak outside, felt my head start to spin, and handed Josh my camera. Actually, the very worst part for me was walking around the base of dome – on the inside – high, high, high above the cathedral. I had to focus on my breathing, look at the edge of the outside wall and convince myself not to pass out. Once my feet were firmly planted outside, I took a series of photos showing where the observation deck is on top of the dome. (Fortunately, my camera has auto-focus, and my near vision is poor, I could not see those photos clearly until I was back in the hotel room. Just the photos make me dizzy.) Following our climb, Josh headed back to the hotel, and I went over to Accademia and paid my regards to Michelangelo’s real David, and a number of his unfinished sculptures. There is a great deal of other wonderful work there including an incredible collection of Russian Icons on the second floor. It seemed a fitting way to end my time in this historic city.
While we were on the train to Pisa, I read that Elizabeth Edwards had died. It hit me really hard. In particular, I liked Edwards. I thought she was incredibly strong and gutsy. In general, sixty-one is too young to die, and sometimes life seems so precarious.
Edwards had posted the following message on her facebook page. “The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human. But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful.”
Strength and patience. Being human. Precious days. “Travel is a privilege and life is short.” And, once again, I am grateful.
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