Introduction

Firenze (Italian for Florence) is a victim of sorts. Unbelievably important in the history of art, science, architecture, and of Italy itself, it is today absolutely besieged with tourists from all over the world, all eager to absorb its many delights (an impossibility) and hell-bent on seeing it all in a matter of a couple of days (an even bigger impossibility). Disneyland-like queues snake outside most museums, churches and outdoor caffès. Hotels are booked solid six months to a year in advance.

Still, one cannot visit Italy without at least contemplating a stay in Firenze—it is simply too important, too rich in treasures to be ignored. And so we included it in our itinerary without reservation, accepting that the going would be slow and the crowds formidable.

We thought we might avoid the heaviest crowds because of the time of year we were travelling, around Easter. Evidently, tens of thousands of other tourists had the same idea! Still, as congested as it was, we suspected that it's much worse at other times of the year.

Our major reasons for wanting to visit Firenze included our usual interests: art, architecture, history, design and good food. We found all in abundance in Firenze.

Travelling - Piazza della Signoria

We hired a driver in Siena equipped with a nice big Mercedes-Benz, and we set off hell-bent for Firenze. The ride was great. It was sunny, we went very fast, and the scenery was gorgeous. We were driven right to our hotel in the Via del Proconsolo—this driver had done his homework. We registered but were told our room wouldn’t be ready until 2:00, so we left our bags and set off straight to the Piazza della Signoria.

Along the way, at Piazza San Firenze, we came upon a religious rite. It was Palm Sunday and olive branches were being handed out to people as they entered San Fillipo Neri. A little while later, the priest and about twenty nuns, in lovely pale blue and cream habits, all carrying large palm fronds, emerged and gathered at the foot of the steps, facing the church doors. A man was continuously swinging a censor and the heady aroma of incense permeated the air. The priest said a few words and then they all started singing. Lovely.

We finally hit Piazza della Signoria and checked out some of the sculpture, which includes Giambologna’s equestrian statue of Cosimo I de Medici, first of the so-called Grand Dukes of Tuscany, Ammanati's Neptune fountain, the Judith and Holofernes by Donatello, and the many pieces in the Loggia dei Lanzi.

We located the granite disk where the firebrand monk Savonarola held his Bonfire of the Vanities and was later himself burned when his fifteen minutes of fame were up. Piazza della Signoria, with the looming Palazzo Vecchio, has long been a popular site for public gatherings, both peaceful and hostile, and is definitely the political and civic center of the city.

Sitting outside at the ritzy Rivoire, a very famous caffè, we enjoyed the sun and some delicious spremute d’arancia (fresh squeezed orange juice). It was expensive, but so what? It seemed the perfect Florentine thing to do at the moment.

We walked past the Or San Michele, an important building, with its spectacular high altar by Orcagna and its sculpture niches around the outside that hold important life-size works by Donatello and Cellini and Ghiberti, among other important Florentine artists, and turned onto the Via di Dante Alighieri and found Perche No? (literally, Why Not?) so we had our daily gelato fix. Richard came here often in 1985 for gelato. Jack had fragole and lampone (strawberry and raspberry), and Richard had cassata Siciliana and riso (“Sicilian cake” with bits of cake and candied fruit, and rice).

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The Bargello

We continued down Via di Dante Alighieri, noting the Casa Dante, and emerged on Via del Proconsolo right across from the Bargello, an ancient palazzo/fortress. Used for centuries as a prison, it now holds the city's premier sculpture collection. We paid our admission and entered off the chaotic ticket area/coat check/bookstore/entry hall and were in the first gallery.

This room contains four works by Michelangelo, including the Bacchus, the Pitti Tondo, the David/Apollo, and the Brutus. There are also several Cellinis, including some wax models of his Perseus, which was missing from the Loggia in Piazza della Signoria. There are also works by Giambologna (perhaps best known for his sculpture of the god Mercury) and Ammanati. We scoped out the courtyard before climbing to the first floor. We briefly took in the small displays of glass and the beautiful majolica ware and then crossed the loggia to enter the Donatello Hall.

Many treasures here. Richard liked the little Amore with his bronze chaps. The St. George by Donatello (from a niche at Or San Michele) struck us as very beautiful. The bronze David, the famous, androgynous one by Donatello that many credit with ushering in the full flowering of the Italian Renaissance, is extraordinary.

Among the many beautiful and important other works on display in this one room are two bronze panels, created by Lorenzo Ghiberti and Filippo Brunelleschi, entries in a famous 1401 contest to pick the artist to cast a set of doors for the Baptistry (one of the eventual three sets of doors, by Andrea Pisano, was already in place). Ghiberti won and the result was his first set of doors. Constructed during the period 1403 to 1424, the doors required the foundation of a major foundry and workshop, where several important Florentine sculptors received their training, including Donatello, Masolino, Uccello and Antonio Pollaiuolo. Based on the success of these doors, the Merchants' Guild commissioned him to make another set, the resplendent "Gates of Paradise."

We stopped in the Chapel, with its restored (but damaged) frescos, perhaps by Giotto, including a supposed portrait of Dante. There is also a beautiful triptych here, and the central lectern is marvelously inlaid in wood, particularly the doors on the base, with trompe l’oeil scenes of open gates and distant landscapes. The gates are elaborate knot patterns of an almost Islamic feel. The Sacristy houses small portable altars, chalices, reliquaries, the usual ecclesiastic bric-a-brac, some very old.

We studied some old Islamic pieces, especially admiring a beautiful enameled glass mosque lamp and some gorgeous fabrics and carpets. We liked the displays of utilitarian (but beautifully made) objects such as elaborate door locks and closures and keys and watches and earrings and brooches and crowns and lovely cameos, some carved on whole shells.

Then there was the room of turned ivory things and the mind, it reeled and refused to accept more data. We left and returned to the hotel (the museum was closing, anyway) and unpacked and got organized for our stay. Jack painted and Richard brought this journal up to date.

Later, Jack went out on his own and returned with a large bunch of gorgeous tulips of the most outrageous apricot/orange/yellow (the color shifted in different light) and we put them on the desk in a crystal vase provided by the hotel.

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Dining and exploring

Our first night we set out to find dinner and ended up in a small osteria/trattoria just steps from Piazzo del Duomo. We ordered off the tourist menu as the selection was good. Jack had cappeleti in brodo, tiny little tortellini-like pasta, in broth, with a grating of grana; Richard had gnocchi al pomodoro basilico, earthy and redolent of garlic. For secondi, Jack had lamb that been braised with tomato, wine, and artichokes, and Richard had chicken (pollo di aromi i olive) that was utterly delicious. For dessert, Jack had tiramisu and Richard had panna cotta, his new favorite dessert. A satisfying meal for a good price.

At dinner, Richard mentioned to Jack that as Firenzee was known for its jewelry, we might look for rings here. Specifically, we thought we might look on the Ponte Vecchio. Ponte Vecchio, literally, Old Bridge, is, in fact, the oldest standing bridge across the Arno River in Firenze. Historically lined with butcher shops, the wife of Cosimo I complained of the stench when the Medici moved from the Palazzo Medici to the Palazzo Vecchio. The butchers were run off and soon were replaced with goldsmiths, who remain to this very day. Both sides of the bridge are lined with little jewelry shops that hang off the sides. When the German army was retreating from occupied Firenze in 1944, they blew up all the bridges crossing the Arno to slow the advancing Allied forces, but the commander could not bear to destroy the Ponte Vecchio. Shop owners on the bridge lost their entire inventories in the devastating floods of 1966, but the bridge itself survived.

After dinner, we strolled over to scope out the Duomo, whose real name is Santa Maria dei Fiori—Saint Mary of the Flowers—and the Baptistry, which is extremely old, perhaps Roman in origin, and certainly standing by the 5th Century. Richard had forgotten how huge the church is. It struck us as odd that the piazza around it is not put to better use and that it is so grimy, since it is, in fact, the spiritual center of Florence. At least they now ban car traffic from most of the perimeter of the building. Most of the grime is from car exhaust, and it is heartbreaking to see it soiling the beautiful cream, green, pink, and black inlaid marble walls and façades. As an indication of the level of pollution, the entire church was just cleaned a few years ago, but is again black and streaked. Alas, marble does not stand up well to modern pollutants.

We walked around the Baptistry, which is octagonal and is inlaid with wonderful Romanesque patterns in white and dark green marble, looking at all three sets of doors, including Ghiberti’s famous Gates of Paradise, or, rather, cheap looking brass copies of the originals which have been moved indoors for safekeeping and were not available for viewing this trip due to restoration of the Cathedral’s museum. We noted the huge porphyry columns on either side of the east doors. These are war booty taken from the Balearic Islands, so are probably Roman in origin. They have suffered greatly from exposure to the elements. Porphyry, most of which originated from a single mine in Egypt, was one of the rarest and costliest stones in ancient Rome and shared its color, purple, with that symbolic of the Emperors.

Looking down Via Martelli, Richard felt a strong pang of nostalgia upon seeing the sign for Hotel Versailles (where he stayed in January of 1985) and the coffee bar downstairs where he had coffee every morning and most afternoons. We walked around the back of il Duomo, neglected and a bit forlorn and took Via del Proconsolo to return to our hotel.

In the middle of the night there was a great crash followed by many smaller breaking glass sounds and the sound of things rolling—bottles, perhaps—in the street, followed by much shouting and laughter and then by the sound of broken glass being swept up.

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Baptistry and il Duomo

The next morning after breakfast returned to the Baptistry. There were already huge throngs of people everywhere, so the going was tedious at times. We paid our admission and entered. This is an amazing space, with its ancient Roman columns and wild inlaid floors and walls. But the real mind-blower is the ceiling, an octagonal dome, completely tiled with mosaics ordered in rows. We spent as long as our necks could stand gawking and spotting the specific bits of the stories portrayed that we have come to recognize: God separating the light and the dark (a particularly beautiful panel), Noah and the Ark (with people drowning), the expulsion from Eden, the Last Supper, the massacre of the Innocents, Herod’s feast (main course: John the Baptist’s head). As before, Richard was very taken with the Hell side of the enormous Final Judgment, with its delectable demons pulling the damned from their graves and Satan munching on sinners.

We left and fought our way into il Duomo, stopping now and then to admire the beautiful pavement medallions and Paolo Ucello’s huge clock and his fresco tribute to Sir John Hawkwood. Hawkwood was supposed to get a large sculptural monument, but ended up with this fresco instead, with its odd perspective.

We briefly toured the underground ruins of the previous church, Santa Reparata, with its large remaining chunks of beautiful, if simple, mosaic floor. We peeked through the gate at Brunelleschi’s final resting spot, under a simple slab with a short inscription. Fillipo Brunelleschi started his career as a goldsmith, losing to Ghiberti in the competition for the Baptistry doors. He turned to architecture and left a profound legacy of beautiful Renaissance buildings based on classical architecture, including the rebuilt church of San Lorenzo, and, especially, its beautifully proportioned Old Sacristy; the Pazzi Chapel at the church of Santa Croce (another perfectly proportioned space); the serene Spedale degli Innocenti (Foundlings Hospital); and not least of all, the stupendous dome of the Duomo, the first large dome successfully built since Roman times. One of the most fascinating elements of this dome is that it was built without scaffolding from below, through an ingenious system of interlocking bricks that he had fired right on the building site. Appropriately, Brunelleschi is the only person buried in the Duomo.

We went outside and around the side of the Campanile heading for the entrance to the dome, but when we saw how long the line was, we opted to scale the bell tower instead. It was somewhat strenuous, but at each level the views kept getting better, so on up to the top we climbed. We spotted SS. Annunziata, San Marco, San Lorenzo, Santa Maria Novella, Santa Maria delle Carmine, the Palazzo Pitti, Palazzo Strozzi, Or San Michele, Ponte Vecchio, Palazzo Vecchio, Santa Croce, San Miniato al Monte, and the Synagogue. Of course, it's wonderful to get a closer view of the church itself, including its stupendous dome. Plus, the ring of hills and hill towns. All very lovely.

We descended and came back to the room via the Grana Market, a small alimentari (grocery store), where we bought water, as well as cerignola and black olives. We had already stopped and bought riciarelli, pan di dante, and cavalucci at the same bakery Richard bought biscotti at 14 years ago. We returned to the room and snacked on olives (delicious!) and cakes and then we had a tiny rest and set back out to visit the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo. Unfortunately, it is closed for year 2000 renovations, a big disappointment, but, (shrug), what’s one to do? This museum, the Museum of the Works of the Duomo, houses many of the priceless treasures that have been removed from both inside and outside the Duomo for preservation. Included are the spectacular wood Mary Magdalen by Donatello and sculpted choir lofts by Donatello and della Robbia, as well as many of the medallions sculpted by Giotto for the base of the Campanile, which he built up to the second level before his death.

We walked toward San Lorenzo (closed) and went around to the entrance of the Medici Chapels (closed because it is the fifth Monday of the month—so Italian). So, we strolled trough the street market and ended up having lunch at Trattoria Zà-Zà, wildly chaotic and pricier than when Richard ate here frequently during his visit in 1985. We ended up having a good meal, though.

We went back to the hotel and painted for awhile. Jack worked on his pavement rendition. Richard did a small painting based on a section of the mosaics in the Baptistry showing the Expulsion. He used a gold pen to simulate the gold mosaic background and it turned out pretty good, after several adjustments.

At 7:30 we set out for dinner. The first two places we stopped at were a bust. The first was too cold and uncomfortable, the second had no spaces until 9:30. We set off and eventually tried to find the place we were looking for last night: Ottorino. We found it this time. We shared an antipasto Toscano, an assortment of cured meats and a delicious crostini with chicken livers, which Richard got all to hiimself as Jack does not like liver. Jack had a veal and asparagus dish and Richard had grilled lamb chops and we split some patate fritte. The lamb was excellent. Jack had lemon sorbet served in a frozen lemon and Richard had a cake split and filled with whipped cream and topped with chocolate shavings. Yum. We returned to find our laundry had come back, neatly folded.

SS. Annunziata - San Marco

After breakfast, we headed for Piazza SS. Annunziata, which we found bathed in light and very lovely indeed. Brunnellschi’s façade and loggia for the Spedale degli Innocenti is so beautiful and well-proportioned and the della Robbia rondels inbetween the arches, with their glazed blue and white swaddled bambini, seemed sweeter and less mawkish than Richard remembered. We checked out one of a pair of Mannerist fountains, grotesque and wonderful.

We entered SS. Annunziata and poked around. The first chapel of the Madonna was as encrusted with lamps and stuff as Richard remembered it. We toured the church, mindful of the many people praying out loud. We briefly noted the Andrea del Sarto frescos in the beautiful glassed-over atrium and then walked to the Galleria dell’Accademia and encountered huge hordes and an enormous (it seemed so at least) line. Discouraged, we opted to visit San Marco, instead.

San Marco is a complex of church, monastery, and museum, housing primarily the works of Fra Angelico, or il Beatifico as he was known. We got in line, harassed by beggar women with pitifully filthy babies, who were horribly persistent. We finally got in and went immediately into the room of paintings. There are so many treasures, all by Fra Angelico, in this one room. We liked the episodic ones a lot and marveled at the clear colors and the very sensitive handling of cloth and architectural settings. Fra Angelico’s use of luminous blue remains unrivaled to this day.

We toured a collection of works by Fra Bartolomeo, including a lovely underpainting in umber and sienna tones with the chiarascuro beautifully defined. We admired the large Fra Angelico fresco in the refectory and examined the Ghirlandaio Last Supper in the dining hall.

After looking at some architectural bits (columns, door and window surrounds, lintels) we went upstairs to the monks’ cells. At the top of the stairs is the very beautiful and sweet Annunciation by Fra Angelico, who also painted many of the frescos in each cell. The angel’s wings are great. We looked into the cells, tiring quickly of all the bloody crucifixion scenes, but admiring the Last Supper, the Deposition, the Kiss in the Garden, the Sermon on the Mount, and other more narrative scenes. In one of the crucifixions, like in one of the paintings on panel, disembodied hands and heads float mid-air, representing the instruments and episodes of Christ’s passion. Mystical and eerie.

We peeked into Savonarola’s cell (pretty dull) and the cell used by Cosimo I whenever he needed a spiritual tune-up among the monks. We fought our way to the gift shop, to buy the usual loot, then sat in the lovely cloisters enjoying a modicum of space between us and the next person. There is an ancient and very beautiful cedrus deodar in the middle of the cloisters. Its documented planting was 1585.

We left San Marco and again walked by the Galleria dell’Accademia, but the lines were formidable, so we decided to return to the room and try later. We went to Piazza del Duomo and had some lunch (pizza and focaccia) and then stopped at Festival del Gelato. Richard had bacio and mousse di meringa, a very rich cream-base with chunks of meringue. Jack had rosa and melone. The rose was delicious and delicate. We sat in the chaotic mirrored and neon-lit interior to eat, then we crossed Piazza della Repubblica and went to the post office, where Richard purchased stamps and affixed them to cards letters and then posted them. That’s it for postcards this trip.

We returned towards the hotel, but decided to divert to Ponte Vecchio and see if the goldsmiths were still open. They were, and we went up one side and down the other until we saw something we liked. We asked to see others and found a style we both like in white and yellow gold. They didn’t have our sizes in stock, but told us to return the next day.

Finally heading back to the room, we stopped at a friendly little produce stand where we bought grapes, dried white figs, and dried mandarinos, little candied tangerines the size of a large cherry. We called the Uffizi for tickets and were told there were none until Monday. We were crushed. The possibility that we might not get in was overwhelmingly depressing. Then Jack came up with a plan—we would take a later train to Rome and do the Uffizi in the morning, so we called back and reserved for 10:15. Now all we need to do is get our train tickets tomorrow.

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Galleria dell’Accademia

After a little rest, Richard started another painting and then we took off again for the Galleria dell’Accademia, where we found the line a bit shorter. We waited in line for about 25 minutes and then we were in. Michelangelo's unfinished sculptures of captives are wonderful and powerful, but it’s hard not to keep returning one’s gaze to David, so tall and so confident. We paid homage, along with what seemed like the population of an entire Japanese city, then explored the rest of the museum, which is packed with mostly neglected treasures.

Our favorites included two paintings of prophets by Fra Bartolomeo, a radiant Perugino, and the Michelangelo/Pontormo Venus and Amore. There was room after room of early Christian art, of which we’ve mostly had our fill. There were also some amazing Russian icons. We left the Galleria and visited an art supply store across the street where we bought a medium-sized watercolor block and some other stuff.

Then, back to the hotel and SHOES OFF. Dinner later. We went back to the little trattoria we ate in our first night: Marino’s (full name: Trattoria Da Marino All'Ombra Del Cupolone). The people were genuinely happy to see return customers. This time, Richard had the cappelleti in brodo (delicious) and Jack tried the lasagne (also good and oozing with bechamela) and then Richard had the agnello coi carciofi and Jack had the contrafilleto con patate (a little tough going but good) and we both had panna cotta, so simple and yet so good. This is such a great little place. A caged bird somewhere upstairs would periodically let out hair-raising screams and screeches. The dona sat on a stool near the front, the padrone handled all the money, and everybody watched the big TV mounted near the ceiling in the front room. The walls were covered with paintings and drawings of scenes in Firenze.

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A walk to San Miniato al Monte

The next day, we took a mammoth walk. We started by darting around the corner to American Express and buying our train tickets to Roma. We then went by the Uffizi and located the entry we’ll use on Monday. We cut through charming narrow side streets and emerged at the Ponte Vecchio. We returned to the jewelry shop and although Vamia was not there (the woman we had worked with the previous day) another friendly woman helped us. She made a call to “the factory” and about ten minutes later a man showed up with the rings in a small bag in his coat pocket. We tried them on (they fit—and are the same size, 22) but we had her box them up as we want to exchange them in a more meaningful place and fashion.

We crossed the Ponte Vecchio and turned into a narrow old street that climbed and climbed, past old houses (including one that belonged to Galileo). We walked past beautiful old walls with brilliant purple silene cascading over—lovely. We finally reached the very beautiful Porta San Giorgio, the oldest surviving gate in the old walls. Just past the Porta was the entrance to the Forte di Belvedere. We walked along the ramparts for a bit, enjoying the views over the city and the Boboli Gardens and Palazzo Pitti below. We were hoping to find a bathroom but failed.

We left the Forte and started down a charming road that follows the old walls and finally peed on some nettles behind an ancient olive tree, the walls rising immediately above. Pastoral. Much relieved, we continued down this road, and we mean down—it seemed as if we were undoing all of the strenuous climb up to the Porta, which, in fact, we were. We reached the Porta San Miniato, a small arch with two massive doors. We read later that these doors had been ripped from their hinges in the 1966 flood and were awed by the power involved in that cataclysmic event.

We turned uphill once more and began our ascent to San Miniato, stopping to rest and to enjoy the birds and the views. We finally reached Viale Galileo Galilei, swarming with fast cars and jittery tourists on foot and made a mad dash across to the front of the monumental staircase that leads up to San Miniato al Monte. The panorama of the city and the ring of hills around it gets better at every landing. We reached the top and had a quick study of the beuatiful façade. This is one of the best preserved Romanesque churches in Italy and has a simply beautiful inlaid dark green and white façade dating from the eleventh century.

Inside, it was dark and murky, but we put coins in the light boxes to illuminate what we could. The intarsic panels of the pavement of the nave are breathtaking, including an splendid inlaid marble zodiac, as is the choir screen and the amazing pulpit with its medieval totem pole motif of an eagle perched on a man who stands on a lion. The Cappella del Cardinale del Portogallo with the della Robbia ceiling is stunning, the ceiling being composed of beautiful large rondels in a field of yellow, green, and purple “tumbling blocks.”

In the apse is a gorgeous mosaic of Christ surrounded by the symbols of the evangelists, huge and glitteringly beautiful. In the Sacristy, the walls and vaults are completely frescoed by Spinello Arentino, whose work we had also admired in Siena—lovely and reminiscent of Giotto.

We left San Miniato by the side arch and wound our way down through trees and shrubs and grass and birds past another church, San Salvatore al Monte, and on down to Piazzale Michelangelo, where we ate a very expensive, though good, lunch at Ristorante le Logge. After lunch, we cruised the piazzale, checking out the bronze copies of Michelangelo’s works and the view. We both agreed that David looks pretty good in bronze.

The view of Firenze from Piazzale Michelangelo is certainly one of the best. People throng here to view fireworks several times a year and there is always a heavy teen presence among the souvenir stands and lemonade carts.

We left the piazzale by the west stairs and started cutting down the hill, switch-backing along the sides and stages of what turned out to be a huge hillside-climbing series of fountains and pools and cool, dark grottos. Very cool. Looming in front of us the whole descent was the tower of the Porta San Niccolo, medieval and wonderful. We walked down a narrow street, observing the old, old houses and palazzi and then crossed the Arno to Via dei Benci. We did a little shopping in an artisan’s shop, buying two decorated wooden trays. We crossed the corner of Piazza Santa Croce and then wound our way through the side streets back to our hotel, exhausted.

We ventured out around 5:30, hoping to get into the Badià, an ancient monastery with important paintings by Filippino Lippi inside, but a smiling nun gave us the word as we tried to enter: “Chiuso.” Oh, well. We went to Grana Market and bought water, Cokes, nuts, cookies. We looked in their cheese case and were quite astonished to see over 9 types of local pecorino cheese for sale, as well as several parmiggianas and many fresh mozzarellas. An amazing variety just in this little shop. We then went to the flower shop in the courtyard of the Palazzo Gondi and bought beautiful tall white and yellow dutch iris, which today look like a flock of birds rising up from the ground. An absolute explosion of shape and color. This flower shop, which we patronized several times, is set up in the courtyard of this important Renaissance palazzo, with its charming fountain contributing lilting sounds and lovely moisture amidst all the plants and flowers. We came back to the room and crashed and didn’t even go out for dinner.

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San Lorenzo - Palazzo Medici-Ricardi - Santa Maria Novella

We are back from our afternoon adventure and the bells are again ringing over the noise of the ever-present scooters and talking pedestrians. But first, this morning's activities. We left a little earlier than usual, then walked past the Duomo. The bells were also ringing then and the heavenly overtones brought an irrepressible smile to our faces. We noted the absence of hordes—no line to climb the dome—but were headed to San Lorenzo.

We cut through back streets and emerged at the entrance to the Medici Chapels, again with no line. We paid and entered the crypt, but soon climbed up to the inlaid mausoleum of the Grand-Dukes, a masterpiece of pietra dura, literally, hard stone: elaborate and complicated inlays of semi-precious and colored stones. The room was just as overblown as Richard recalled.

We especially liked the inlays of the coats of arms of all the Tuscan towns that had been beaten into submission by Firenze and thereby come under Medici rule and the exquisite panels on the high altar. We went down a bit to visit the “New Sacristy” with its glut of Michelangelos, in various stages of completion. Much to admire, including the clean and elegant architecture. A laser scanner was making passes over the group to the right, creating a 3D mesh of the sculpture for use in a CD project. Pretty cool. A big stack of scaffolding prevented one from standing back from the sculptures—an inconvenience for us but essential to the preservation of important works.

We returned to the inlaid room and briefly checked out the reliquaries, then left. How many lower jawbones did John the Baptist have, anyway? Richard now seen several entombed in beautifully crafted silver and crystal display cases, both in Italy and France.

We walked around and entered the church of San Lorenzo itself, turning around to inspect the interior facade, done to Michelangelo’s design. Its simple elegance works seamlessly with the rest of the church, which was designed by Brunelleschi. This church is very beautiful and stately—all about perfect space and classical proportions with little ornate decoration to interfere. Unfortunately, the exterior facade was never built, so it remains rough and unfinished, with mortar oozing out between the bricks.

We studied the pulpits by Donatello, then visited the Old Sacristy, entirely built by Brunelleschi, and a very beautiful space, grey and white (grey pietra serena, a local sandstone, and white plaster) with a wonderful umbrella dome capping it off. There are terra cotta works by della Robbia and Donatello that are uniformly beautiful. The choir stalls are nicely inlaid wood. A wonderful space.

Verocchio’s tomb of Piero il Gotto (Piero di Medici, known as Piero the Gouty), is a fine and stately work. We entered the cloister, looking for the entrance to the Laurentian Library, but found it closed for restoration. A pity, because the vestibule alone is an astonishing example of Mannerist architecture, designed by Michelangelo, with a stunning staircase that flows out into the room like a cascade of water, filling it entirely. Next time.

We left San Lorenzo and crossed the by-now tourist-clogged streets to the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi, bought our ticket to visit the chapel and waited for our appointed time. We climbed the elegant staircase (the building of which caused a bit of the exquisite chapel frescos to be destroyed—what were they thinking?) and entered the chapel, entirely frescoed by Benozzo Gozzoli, a student of Fra Angelico, and containing portraits of many recognizable historical figures, including Lorenzo the Magnificient.

It was as resplendent at Richard remembered it, only now it was packed with twenty tourists in a small viewing area, rubber-necking and oohing and aahing. We descended to terra firma and found a charming little trattoria in Piazza San Lorenzo. We both had the riboletta, a wonderful Tuscan soup with cabbage, tomato, and beans, thickened with bread. Yum. Then we had roasted chicken with patate cooked in the chicken fat and scrumptious. As we ate, more and more people poured in and it got quite lively.

We walked around the market a bit, then struck a course home. We rested a while and then took inventory of everything we’d bought and sorted out the receipts we might need for customs.

At 3:30 we set out for Santa Maria Novella, cutting across Via del Corso to the Piazza della Repubblica, through the arch, across Via Tournabuoni past the massive Palazzo Strozzi until we emerged at Piazza Santa Maria Novella, with its two charming obelisks resting on bronze tortoises by Giambologna. The entire area is far more seedy and run-down than Richard remembered, perhaps because the church itself was completely closed for restoration for the Jubilee Year. Arggh! So, no Masaccio, but we did spend a few minutes admiring the very beautiful façade. The upper portion of the facade was designed by the architectural theorist Alberti who is best remembered for his treatises on perspective and painting, important documents of the Italian Renaissance.

We went in search of the Officina Profumo Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella, finally located it and entered into a graceful hallway, lined with columns and niches holding statues, with great hanging lamps. The farmacia, an enterprise of the Domenican nuns from the convent of Santa Maria Novello, was founded in 1612 and continues to thrive, well known for its luxurious all-natural, botanical soaps, lotions, and extracts. We entered the main salesroom, charmingly neo-Gothic with wonderful old glass cabinets and art nouveau lamps. The air was absolutely heavy with scent but somehow it was charming, not overbearing.

Two other rooms, including the old chemists’ room, again lined with old glass cabinets, are also well worth a look. There were many old apothecary jars and jugs sitting about. We returned to the main room and tried to get a bearing. We finally settled on the following selection: a box of four Sapone der Uomo in vetiver, a box of three soaps scented with musk rose, and some incense papers (Cartas d’Armenia) that are very exotic. We also bought a plate bearing the Medici crest, decorated by the same company in Montelupo that manufactured many of the old jars. We came back to the room and burned an incense paper and immediately decided to return for more.

We had dinner at Le Penneli, just around the corner on the Via di Dante Alighieri. Richard had risotto ai quattro formaggi, which was delicious, and Jack had tortelloni alla casa, also good. Richard then had fried chicken and rabbit (so-so) and Jack had a veal steak in cream. We shared an insalata mista. Too much food to eat, but we did manage to squeeze in some gelato at the ever-lurid Festival del Gelato. Jack had rosa, papaya, and amarena (wild cherry) and Richard had his nostalgic favorite combo gianduia (chocolate-hazelnut) and straciatella (vanilla with chipped chocolate).

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Palazzo Pitti - Giardino di Boboli

After breakfast, we took off for Oltrarno (the “other side” of the Arno), crossing the Ponte Vecchio and making our way down the crowded narrow street crammed with people. We stopped in a shop and bought a friend who collects writing implements a blotter and then stopped at another shop to buy a tiny silver salt spoon (“Only one?” the saleslady asked incredulously. “Very hard to find!”) and then came to the Palazzo Pitti.

After some confusion about which line to be in for tickets to which museum (there are four or five museums housed in this monster of a palace), we successfully negotiated entry, starting with il Museo degli Argenti, The Silver Museum, literally, but really a museum crammed with exotic art objects collected by the Medici, arranged now in a series of ornate rooms. Many amazing things, but the best are the turned ivory objects and the misshapen "baroque" pearl jewelry.

Next, we visited the Palatina, which is the remians of the Medici picture collection, some of which formed the core of the Uffizi and some of which remains here, and marveled at not only the mixed bag of paintings (many greats among more not-so-greats) but the fabulously decorated rooms as well. Some very lovely Raphaels, a gorgeous Giorgione, and a beautiful Titian of musicians.

After the picture gallery, we descended to the chaotic bar and had drinks and a sandwich and some macedonia (fruit salad) and then we went and stood in another line to buy tickets to the Boboli Gardens.

At last we entered the gardens and climbed up to the foot of the large amphitheater, birthplace of opera according to some. A grand space. We kept straight ahead, climbing, until we reached the highest point on that axis, marveling at the old plane trees that had been pruned as candelabra, planted circa 1800. We skirted the wall and climbed up to the Knight’s Garden, with its stunning views over the countryside and its huge Banksia roses, just about to pop into full bloom. The par terres are planted with peonies—it must be some spectacle when it’s in bloom.

We descended and took a side path and eventually took an even smaller path into dense woods. It was very peaceful and green and the birds were singing. These woods were planted specifically to attract birds, which could then be hunted with nets—yikes! We emerged at one end of the lovely arched holm-oak tunnel near an old tower in the wall and found a bench under the interwoven branches, with the sound of running water from a nearby fountain. It was very serene. We waited until we were quite alone and then we exchanged rings and said a few things that will remain private between us.

After our ring exchange, we looked down the holm-oak tunnel, but actually walked down the path bordered on one side by the ancient city wall, the other side by the enchanting fountain that carries a channel of water along stone troughs, through 20 or so massive grotesque heads, and so on down the hill. This water feature was also placed here to attract birds but now attracted only a few adventurous tourists. The sun warms the water as it moves downhill, so what was icy cold at the top of the hill (around the corner from "Our Spot") became almost warm at the bottom of the hill. The view back up the hill was charming. At the bottom a massive Giove bust by Giambologna anchors one end of a great “hallway” path.

We eventually entered the grand cypress allée, a stunning feature, and walked down hill to the island garden. We sat on a bench on the perimeter and admired the enchanting island, with sculpture placed in the surrounding water, now sporting Giambologna’s giant Ocean fountain (actually, a copy, as the original was deteriorating in its outdoor location).

The island itself was closed off to visitors, so we had to make do with inspecting the statuary and the smaller fountains along the edge, including the wonderful harpies and the gate posts topped with goats, Cosimo I’s symbol.

We left the island garden and entered the Meadow of Columns, an elegant hemicyclical space, with a ring of huge plane trees along the perimeter, backed by a high pruned hedge inset with niches containing classical Roman busts. At the center of each half of the space stands a porphyry column with white marble bases and capitals. This is a beautifully designed and elegant space.

We crossed the meadow to visit the old Roman gate at the furthest reach of the gardens, stopping to look at a peculiar sculpture group of grotesques and three sculptures of boys playing “The Owl Game,” whatever that is, leaning over and pointing up. We walked along the edge of the gardens, sometimes taking narrow winding paths through the groves, until we reached the Lemon House behind its wonderful wrought iron fence and gate that looks like it’s made partially of rope. The garden holds a large and important collection of citrus varieties, all grown in pots. These are moved outdoors in summer, and winter over in this 18th Century confection of an orangerie.

We continued along the path uphill towards the palazzo, stopping to pick and crush several bay laurel leaves to inhale and looking at the trees and other bits of sculpture. It was quite warm and we both had our jackets off. We finally reached the terrace at the foot of the amphitheater and crossed to the path leading to the Great Grotto (closed for restoration) and near the two ancient Roman porphyry and marble statues of captives and then the path dumped us into a courtyard clogged with cars and no clear exit, so it took us two tries to get out. This is so Italian. We re-entered the palazzo courtyard and visited the bookstore where we bought a faux-marble inlaid wooden box as a momento of our special day at Boboli Gardens.

We strolled back through the afternoon hordes (it was nearly 4:30), stopping at an artisan shop to buy a couple of gifts: a small “Florentine” box for Jack’s parents and a small statuette of The Dwarf Morgant, a notorious sculpture in the Boboli Gardens of an enormously fat nude dwarf astride a giant tortoise, for our bookshelf collection, which includes the little David and Colosseum Richard bought his last trip.

We fought our way through the milling crowds across the Ponte Vecchio and immediately plunged down a cool, empty side street that led us to the Uffizi, and more crowds. We decided to splurge so we sat outside at Caffé Perseo and had coppa di bosco, ice cream and mixed berries and Coca Cola for Jack and panna cotta and acqua minerale for me. We were in the shade, but the Palazzo Vecchio was in sun against the rich blue sky and it was quite lovely. The rich golden ochre color of walls against the intense blue of the Tuscan sky is surely one of the greatest color combinations in the world. We took the increasingly familiar back streets to our hotel and took some painkillers for our aching feet.

Later we went out to dinner at Ottorino, where we had a very good meal. We started with bruschetta al pomodoro and prosciutto i melone, both very good. Jack had only a primi: tagliatelle con pomodoro i mozzarella and Richard had a secondi, carre di vitello arrosto (roast loin of veal) con patate and we shared a plate of carciofi fritti. For dessert, Jack had the afore-tested sorbetto al limone and Richard had torta di formaggi. An excellent meal, in a fun ambience.

In Italian restaurants, a primi is a first course, often pasta or risotto or soup. A secondi is usually a meat or fish course. Contorni, usually vegetables, potatoes, or salads, are served with the secondi. Of course, you can start with antipasti and finish it all off with dolci (sweets). And some throw in a pizza course as well. Buon appetito!

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Santa Trinita - Palazzo Vecchio - Santa Croce

We slept a little later than usual, got groomed, had breakfast, Richard painted a little, and we set off for Santa Maria Novella, where we did some more shopping damage buying gifts for friends and family, including many boxes of Cartas d’Armenia.

We stopped in Santa Trinita to see the Ghirlandaio frescos, which include contemporary street scenes of Florence, including the palazzo across the street from the church, and portraits of Lorenzo il Magnifico, among others, and briefly checked out the rest of the church. The altar steps are a swooningly beautiful bit of architecture by the Mannerist architect/raconteur Bernardo Buontalenti. Bits of the old black and white striping of the vaults remains on the crossing.

We left Santa Trinita, noting the old column set up outside, then cut through the side streets to Piazza della Signoria, noting how thronged the Ponte Vecchio already was. We entered the Palazzo Vecchio and paid our admittance fee and then looked at everything, it seems. We liked a lot of the blatantly self-adoring decoration paid for by Cosimo I and especially liked the wonderful grotesques and allegorical paintings. Michelangelo’s Victory is here (unfinished, we noted), as well as a cute Verocchio putto and the highly erotic Hercules and Diomedes by Vincenzo de Rossi, engaging in a little hand-job with an equally husky fellow. Ooh-la-la!

We went from room to room in a semi-daze, interested and stimulated but suffering from serious sensory overload. We climbed to the terrace and had a rest and a little kiss while looking down on the roof of the Uffizi. The haze wass formidable: instant Leonardo atmospheric perspective, with farther hills reduced to grey-blue silhouettes.

We descended, passing Donatello’s Judith and Holofernes, and back through the charming courtyard off the square in search of lunch, which was a caprese-style salad with tomatoes and fresh mozzarella and a pizza alla quattro stagione. We returned to the room to rest before setting off again for the church of Santa Croce.

We stopped and bought calla lilies for Michelangelo, who is buried at Santa Croce, and found his tomb covered by gated boards (for restoration) and not visible. We stuck the flowers in a gap of the gate and paid our brief respects.

Santa Croce was crawling with hordes of tour groups and we could barely sustain our interest. We looked at the Giottos and visited the ho-hum museum to see the very sadly damaged Cimabue crucifix and visited the ever-lovely Pazzi Chapel and the calm cloister. Santa Croce was seriously damaged in the 1966 flood, and the entire quartiere around the church has never fully recovered. The great Cimabue crucifix was too badly damaged to completelyrestore, although conservators were able to stablize the paint layers that remain, so it hangs forlornly, a mute witness to a great tragedy. Incidentally, there has been no wide-scale planning or preparation to prevent another deadly flood from inundating Florence, which has seen such cataclysms repeatedly in its history. There is a warning system that supposedly will provide three hours notice, but engineering efforts to protect the town remain nonexistent. Crazy.

We left. We bought another wooden tray. We bought grapes and oranges and water and Cokes and cookies and stumbled home. Jack rubbed Richard's feet with lotion—a true angel! Later, we went out and had gelato for dinner at Festival di Gelato. Richard had croccantino and riso; Jack had kiwi, mandarino, and papaya. We returned to the room, dead-tired. Jack read this journal and Richard started a painting of symbols of our little ceremony in the Boboli Gardens: twining and interlaced branches, bay leaves, and interlocked rings on a lapis lazuli background.

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Scoppio del Carro, Easter Sunday

The next morning, we slept a little later than usual, got groomed, and then set off for Piazza del Duomo. We found a good viewing spot and observed the spectacle of the Scoppio del Carro.

Between the Baptistry and the Duomo was a tall, elaborate wooden cart, dating from the 17th century, drawn here through the city streets by a pair of white oxen every Easter Sunday, decorated with the lily (or is it iris?) of Firenze. Around the cart, cadres of costumed people, including a bugle, fife, and drum corps, lancemen, pikesmen, and flag bearers who put on a great synchronized show, tossing their brightly colored flags in sequence and such. The bells were ringing overhead (the Capanile was right in front of us) and the crowds friendly but eager in anticipation.

At nearly 11:00, a drum roll started, then the “dove,” a bottle rocket on a wire, shot out of the open cathedral doors from the high altar inside, lit the fuse of the cart, while a second “dove” shot back inside the church to return to the high altar. The fireworks on the cart began to ignite and what a fun spectacle it was. Loud and bright and glittery and surprising and soon huge clouds of white and purple smoke went billowing up—lovely as it passed in front of the dark green and white of the Baptistry. There were wonderful fountain effects and very bright, loud sequential cycles and clouds of tiny red and green sparklers and pinwheels and a wheel at the top that unfurled flags as it spun and a spectacular grand finale of cascades of gold sparkles and shooting rockets. Spectacular! We stayed a bit to watch the participants solemnly parade past in their bright feathered caps and costumes and flags.

It was a delight to observe not only the many children, but also the adults who watched this show with absolute glee. Perhaps off the tourist radar, this was surprisingly not that crowded!

We left the piazza by the nearest side street and wound our way to Piazza San Firenze for coffee, excited and stimulated by the exotic display. We st outside at Bar San Firenze, located on the ground floor of Antonio de Sangallo’s beautifully noble Palazzo Gondi, and had capuccino and caffè latte and spremute di arancia and pastries. Lovely.

We then walked to the Uffizi and bought books so we don’t have to deal with them the day of our visit, and then returned via the back side of Palazzo Vecchio so as to avoid the throngs forming in Piazza della Signoria.

Some random observations: We were charmed by the pots of blooming camellias that we saw in various places, especially inside churches. Also charming were the potted baptisia with yellow flowers. At Caffe Perseo there were baptisias trained as standards—an explosion of soft new green foliage and pale yellow flowers—stunning! From the terrace of Bar San Firenze, Richard had a view of the tops of the towers of both the Badià and the Bargello and noticed that both had figurative weather vanes: the Badia has a lovely angel and the Bargello a rampant lion. Also, on the façade of San Fillipo Neri at San Firenze, there are wonderful silver hearts, with silver flames rising from the top edges. The top pediment is a classic Mannerist broken pediment, sort of like the deconstructionist cream puff we had from Pasticceria 5 Lune in Roma. (What we mean by this is that a normal rounded pediment is cut in half and the two halves flipped out so the curves started at the upper outside corners and met at the middle bottom, like a curved V. Such mannered devices were scorned by later architects as impractical and inelegant, as pediments were historically designed to let rain water run off the sides, not collect right over the middle of the door, but they are a delight to the modern viewer. One of the best Mannerist architects, Buontalenti, is well represented in Florence.)

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The Uffizi - Travelling to Roma

Our final day in Florence we rose (ta-da!) at 7:00 and completed our final packing in preparation for the day’s rather hectic schedule.

We stowed our bags, had breakfast, checked out, and headed to the Uffizi. Entry via our pre-arranged reservations was a snap, thereby avoiding the enormous line. There were crowds, yes, but if one waited long enough, the crowd would ebb and we’d be in front of whatever interested us. A major early disappointment however: the room of Sienese painting was closed. We could see the radiant Simone Martini (his Annunciation) from the door, so that was some consolation.

The three Maestàs are sublime, of course. These are three huge paintings of the Virgin enthroned, by Cimabue, Duccio, and Giotto, three of the most amazing religious paintings ever, and all in one room. We won’t list all that we saw (you should go yourself, plus there are many excellent books and online references). Richard was most impressed (new impressions only) by Bronzino, so we bought a book about him, too. The Perugino, Durer, Rembrandt, and Caravaggio rooms were all closed.

What rooms were open, of course, were utterly delightful, especially the wondrous room of Botticellis.

The Michelangelo Sacred Family was splendid. It was great to see how many paintings had been cleaned and/or restored. We inspected most of the sculpture lining the grand hallways, including all the Emperors and a bust of Antinous, the emperor Hadrian’s favorite, um, special friend, placed on one side of the door to the Tribune (Hadrian’s bust is on the other side, looking towards Antinous).

We speed-walked through the later rooms of 17th, and 18th Century Italian painting. Because various rooms were closed, we didn’t get to see the Bellini, the Cranach, or the Holbein. Neither Bacchus nor Medusa (both Caravaggio, but then, we had seen many Caravaggios in Rome). Next time.

We finished up at the Uffizi and had lunch right on Piazza dell Signoria at Ristorante il Cavallino. We sat outside and ate prosciutto i melone, avocado piacere, tortellini alla panna, spaghetti al pomodoro fresco, carciofi fritti, gelato with vin santo and cantucci and crema caramelo. Whew! It was warm and lovely and we took our time and enjoyed ourselves. The hordes grew and grew. We walked slowly through the now-familiar streets to the hotel, where, after a brief rest in the lobby (with its amazing huge gilded Rococo mirror), we collected our luggage and hailed a taxi. The ride to Stazione Santa Maria Novella was wild—fast and scary and fun.

Since most of the streets in Firenzee, and, for that matter, in Roma and Siena as well, have no sidewalks, one must learn to coexist in the streets with cars (where allowed) and Vespas. Still, we genuinely feared for pedestrians when taking this taxi ride!

We waited for our train to be posted on the big board. We boarded and took off almost immediately. As we pulled out of the station, we bid a fond farewell to Firenze. Arrividerci, città del amore.

We hurtled along on the Eurostar train direct to Roma Termini. We were comfortably ensconced in first class, living large. It wass pretty luxurious—much nicer than our experience with first class train travel in Spain.

The landscape sliding by was very picturesque. Farms, with hills clotted with old buildings and clustered towns at the crowns.

In Roma, we stayed at the Hotel Kennedy, on Via Fillipo Turatti, just two blocks from Termini. This is a funky little friendly hotel, but the room was comfortable and did nicely for our brief stay (less than 12 hours). After we checked in, we took off to explore, first some ruins that we saw from our window, and the interesting building behind it, the Acquario Romano.

We walked to Piazza Vittorio Emanuelle II, which had more bits of ruins in it, including a marble doorway inscribed with astrological symbols and flanked by odd statues. Around one end of the large ruin, all broken arches and curved walls in ancient Roman brick, was a clump of downed and broken classical columns. A little group of people were sitting on one of the columns, enjoying a picnic. One of the women was speaking on her cell phone. Classic. A very cute black and white cat was watching them from another column.

We walked around looking at trees (palms, three large Campersdown elms, redbuds in bloom and some laburnums). We set off for Piazza Santa Maria Maggiore and noted people coming out of Santa Prassede so we rushed over there to learn they were being escorted out as the church was closing. So, the coy Santa Prassede eluded us again, the slippery wench. This ancient church houses spectacular mosaics. Next time.

Oh, on our way to Santa Maria Maggiore, we detoured down a side street to check out an old classical arch spanning the street, the Arch of Gallienus, which was once the Porta Esquilina in the city walls. Very cool. Next to the arch is a little church called San Vito, open, but Mass was being said and so we entered not. Along the way, the setting sun illuminated the tops of the façades of the beautifully colored buildings—one in particular was gorgeous: an intense orange over yellow, fronted with the saturated yellow-green of new foliage on the street trees. Great, side-lit by the setting sun.

We found a little trattoria open and had grilled veal and an artichokes and potatoes and cheesecake for a great price. We bought water and returned to the hotel.

The next morning, the car we hired to drive us to the airport was yet another Mercedes, plush with leather seats and a seamlessly smooth ride. We raced through the pre-dawn streets of Roma and onto the autostrada, passing eerily-lit chunks of ruins, including some aqueducts. We sped along at an exhilarating clip (140 kph in a 70 kph zone) and it was quite fun. We passed the great building at EUR, an exhibition center built by Mussolini now housing important museums, inspired by the Colosseo, and also the wonderful inverted triangle building at Cinecittà, the famous film studio perhaps most often associated with Federico Fellini, and one of the most storied film production facilities in the history of cinema.

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Postcript

Re-entry was difficult, but then it is often difficult to abandon a fantasy for reality. We greatly missed the interactions with people and the depth of culture that we found in Italy. We missed the pride of ownership on the part of grocers and artisans alike.

Still, we do little things to prolong the experience. We eat a lot of Italian food at home, especially feasting on artichokes when they are in season to commemorate many fine meals we had in Italy. Richard asked an Italian friend to teach him to make pasta and now is somewhat adept at it. Richard painted two large canvases of an imaginary Italian landscape populated by stone pines and cypresses. We have read voraciously many books on Italian (and Roman and Etruscan) history, art, archeology and architecture.

And we think often of returning.

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