We woke up early (which on vacation means that we had to be up by 7, horrors!) and got back on the road towards Florence. Florence was one of the destinations which most piqued our interest. It is the birthplace of the Renaissance, and the home of so many of the great artists, sculptors and writers important therein. It is the home of Michelangelo’s David. It is the home of Shaffer’s favorite soccer time. It is the birthplace of gelato. If you let the locals tell it, it is the birthplace of just about everything good in life. And you know, they are not altogether wrong.
Shaffer was really hoping to see the soccer stadium. Florence’s team is called Fiorentina, and for a long time Shaffer’s favorite soccer player (Gabriel Batistuta) played there. After spending the better part of 10 years there, Batistuta was traded away to Roma. He returned to a standing ovation. During the match, Batistuta scored a tremendous goal for Roma. The Florence fans cheered wildly for him, and his teammates rushed to embrace him. Batistuta stood stoic. After the match a reporter asked him what it felt like to score one more goal in Florence’s stadium. “It felt like killing my family” Batistuta replied, choking back tears. Take some goddamn notes, LeBron. Watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yptEUrgqYN0
We parked on the wrong side of the tracks, but still had to pay an outrageous amount for it. (20 Euro for just over 8 hours of parking). After slumming through some of Florence’s rougher districts, we finally hit the Pitti palace and Florence-proper. The Pitti was an impressively large building that now houses a modern art museum. It was a striking dichotomy: The medieval majesty of the palace juxtaposed against the bizarre, multihued sculpture that sits outside.
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| Art in front of the Pitti Palace |
Much of Florence is a juxtaposition. Many of the towns we had visited, both fore and hence, had remnants of a medieval life in them. Most of these towns were in many ways still stuck in medieval times: Well preserved and perpetuated primarily by the tourist industry. Florence was much the opposite: Interwoven in the rich Renaissance tapestry of the city are the threads of a bustling, modern city.
Our first stop was Il Ponte Vecchio (The Old Bridge). The only Renaissance bridge to survive the destruction of World War II, Ponte Vecchio is contemporarily most famous for the gold and silver shops that line its arcades. With all of the jewelry, along with the hundreds of locals and tourists that are on the bridge at any given time, it must be very well constructed to deal with all of the weight.
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| View from the Ponte Vecchio Bridge |
We next hit Palazzo Vecchio (The Old Palace). Outside the palace were marble sculptures, many of them reproductions. One such reproduction was Michelangelo’s David. The real David once stood here, but was moved when it was damaged after a riot. David now sits in the Accademia, where you have to make reservations a full month in advance in order to get in. WE didn’t have reservations (or money), so we were tickled to see any David, even a reproduction.
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| Fake David |
Next was the medieval home of Dante Aligheri. Dante was a Florentine poet who most famously penned “The Divine Comedy,” in which he and various historical figures tour Il Paridisio (Heaven), Il Purgatorio (Purgatory), and Il Inferno (Hell). We visited his former house, which has been renovated into a museum detailing his works, as well as a sort of primer on Florentine history and politics. Shaffer was very excited about it; and everyone else was nice to humor him. Jen Costa would have loved it too: Being an English major and ardent Dante fan. Tim Costa also would have loved it, given his passion for human suffering.
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| Dante's House |
After Dante’s house we reentered the twisting Florentine side streets, and snaked towards Florence’s Duomo. The view blew us away. It must have been two to three times the size of Siena’s. We had never seen a church that big; we had seen very few buildings anywhere that big. Not just tall, big. Tall, wide, broad, and deep: BIG! We marveled at it for a good 20 minutes before we started noticing a rumble in our tumble. That’s Shaffer-talk for, we were getting sort of hungry. We paid way too much for pizza at a joint a couple of blocks away from the Duomo. And we got yelled at for some reason that still escapes it. Whatever. It hit the spot, and we had few alternatives. Pizza nazi.
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| Duomo |
We booked a tour of the Duomo. There was about an hours’ wait to get in, and our tour was cheap, gave us access to parts we would not be able to see otherwise, and allowed us to skip the lines. However, it didn’t start for a few hours, so we set about exploring the city. There was so much to see: Old churches, shops, markets, and a tremendous skyline. We stopped and bought some fresh fruits served in cups for a couple euro, and were just content with exploring. The highlight was probably and open air market that had everything: Soccer jerseys, Italian leather, tourist trinkets, and even fresh fish. We lost ourselves in the experience, and just enjoyed the city.
Pretty soon the time came for our tour. We had a very helpful guide named Ilaria (Italian for Hillary), and she explained the inside of the Duomo to us. For as big as the Duomo was on the outside, it was pretty sparse inside. The Siena Duomo was ornate, even opulent. The Florentine Duomo was more solemn, reverent even. The interior of the dome was covered with a breathtaking fresco. Then it was a long march up 200 stairs. As we climbed, Shaffer began to feel something. Something primal, from his childhood maybe. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it…
As we emerged into the beautiful afternoon sun, some 200 feet off the ground, Shaffer remembered what it was that he was feeling. Shaffer is afraid of heights. Well, afraid might actually not be the right word: Terrified is more like it. Despite the grandeur of the view, the vertigo was nauseating. It was like trying to walk on a giant sponge. Or a swampy bog. People milled around like fruit flies below. In the distance we could see the Pitti palace, Pallazzo Vecchio, and Santa Croce. It was awesome. It was terrifying.
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| On the way up the dome of the Duomo |
More steps (300 more, to be exact), were to follow. Interspersed through our ascent were close ups of the fresco, with the faces distorted so as to be seen correctly from far below. A cool 3D mosaic on the church floor sprang to life as we were far above, and the lady behind us started freaking out. Her 5 year old kid had to calm her down.
We finally emerged at the top, and the views were breathtaking. The dome is some 400 feet (40 stories) tall. By law, it is the tallest building in Florence, so you can see everything from up there. Shaffer’s vertigo had abated somewhat, and he was able to enjoy the view from the top. We lingered for half an hour, snapping many photos, and enjoying the scenes.
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| Made it ma- top of the world |
The descent was a claustrophobe’s nightmare. (Thankfully both of our phobias begin with A’s: Acrophobia for Shaffer; arachnophobia for Amy). Both ascent and descent are affected between the exterior and interior domes: A space no more than 16 inches wide. If you pass someone going the opposite direction, the only choice is to turn sideways and rub yourself all over the other person. We all got to know each other pretty well on the trip down.
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| Getting cozy in the dome |
Unfortunately, we had to leave without seeing the soccer stadium. We all searched diligently on maps and signs, but it was nowhere to be found. Even from the top of the Duomo we could see no vestige of it. We figure it probably is in some suburb out of town. Oh well. Shaffer got a hat to commemorate his time there, and we could feel the pulse of the team throughout the city.
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| New hat; same old in-laws |
We stopped in the middle of nowhere for dinner. It was a beautiful setting: Perched on a hillside overlooking a wooded valley, with the sound of farm animals in the background. And the smell of manure. Shaffer finally tried wild boar, which tastes a lot like beef, only gameier. Amy had some sort of pasta.
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| Restaurant on the way home |
As we rounded the final bend coming back to Punta Ala, our diligence was rewarded as we finally solved the mystery of a good friends’ origins. At a local market, a merchant was unloading a shipment from a truck proudly flying the banner of the Guadagnoli Fish Company. No joke.
Special shoutout today to Trevor and Tasha Stephens. Trevor and Tasha are having a joint graduation party today. We wish we could be there to celebrate with you guys. We’ll have to see each other when we get back into town. We are so very proud of both of you, and wish you all the success in the world. We have every confidence that both of you will do very well: Tasha in her undergraduate career; Trevor in law school at the University of Oregon. Trevor, Shaffer’s very much looking forward to buying you a beer in just a few days. Well done guys.
Up Next: Trains, beaches, cats, expensive dinners, the wrong kind of pizza, forced marches, heaven in a sandwich, and breathtaking beauty: Vernazza, and the Cinque Terre.
Arrividerci!
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