La Bella Firenze

Florence, Italy–Firenze, the capital of Tuscany, the heart of the Italian Renaissance, the birthplace of Dante, home to Galileo, Michelangelo, Leonardo, Botticelli, Giotto, Machiavelli, the dusty stone city bisected by the River Arno as it flows west out of the Appenines toward the Mediterranean Sea at Pisa, 40 miles west. When did I fall in love with Florence? Why?

There is a good chance that I had heard of Florence before my friend David did a study abroad program through Gonzaga University that placed him in that famous Dominican city. Because of him, though, I learned more, and had more reason to be interested in it.

Later, another friend, Jose Arau, did another year abroad program, through the architecture school at Cal Poly SLO, and chose Florence. He wrote me great letters and sent drawings.

Meanwhile I was teaching Humanities at Chico High School and learning more and more about the Renaissance, and Florence as its Italian hub. And I started traveling, too, which makes the world shrink and possibilities expand.

The first time I visited Florence was with a group of high school kids I took from Chico High to tour Italy during spring break. We started in southern France and moved east and south through the Cinque Terre and Pisa, and arrived in Florence at night by bus so we didn’t really see it much. I got up early the next day and walked around a bit and was immediately struck by the feeling almost of deja vu, the irrational sense of familiarity I felt walking the stone streets. I’m grateful now that I first saw it in the wet, early spring, at its least beautiful, cobblestones black-slick in the rain, but without the hordes of tourists who outnumber the locals every summer.

By the time two years later when I came back again during another spring with another group of kids and saw more of the country and more of Florence,  I had determined that I would come back for a summer, rent an apartment and get to really know the city.

So I did. I went online and found an apartment in the heart of the old city. I started by Googling and found a lot of possibilities, but I finally settled on an offering several pages into the search. They had a good website, a good map and plenty of actual pictures of the apartment and the terrazzo, larger than the actual apartment.  It was centrally located and though sparsely furnished, had everything I needed—a shower, a toilet, a bed, air conditioning and a kitchen. And a terrazzo! Did I mention that?

I already knew where it was when I visited Florence during that second spring, so that I was able to locate it.  From the street below I could look up and see the terrace above me, and imagine sitting out on it in the coming summer, drinking strong coffee and eating fresh fruit from the nearby market.

Since then I’ve been back several times, and each time I’ve returned with a feeling almost of homecoming as my familiarity with the city has increased. And each time I left it was with a fear that I wouldn’t return. Inevitably that time will come, when I leave for the final time.

But that ain’t now! Here I am again. My Italian is rusty and so are my knees, but the Force is strong in this one!

We took possession of the apartment at 36 Lungarno Colombo a day early because Piero, the owner, had an important appointment the next day, when we were to move in. He let us have the extra day for free so we cancelled the reservations we had at a hotel and took him up on the offer.

It’s a huge apartment with a view of the Arno from a large deck. The couples (Don and Myra, Richard and April) got the bedrooms with the double beds (“matrimonios”) and I got the room with the twin beds, roughly the size of fold-out cots for car-camping. Not complaining, just whining a little.

It was late in the afternoon when we arrived from Barcelona, so we didn’t do much until we needed to eat. We walked down the river and across the Ponte San Niccolo to the oltrarno, the south side of the Arno, and searched for a restaurant. We finally found a place called the Trattoria Gigi and were so tired and hungry and crabby that we decided that we’d eat there. It turned out to be one of those serendipitous happenings that occur with some regularity when traveling. The food was good, the service was excellent and when we walked home we felt much better.

The next day, 17 Ottobre, (I’m sneaking in little Italian lessons!) we decided to walk into town. Well, technically we’re in town, but we’re to the east of the center in an area I’d never reached before because I’d always stayed right in the central city (centro citta’). We looked at a map and thought it looked like a long way to the Piazza della Signoria, but started out anyway. Turns out it’s about a mile, which by this time of our trip seems a short stroll (until you’re walking back, tired and hungry, and then it seems a lonnnnnnnng way…), only a fraction of the 4-5 miles we’re averaging per day.

This was just an orientation walk, a shakedown cruise of sorts, so I pointed out the various main points– The aforementioned Piazza della Signoria, with the Loggia dei Lanzi; the entry to the Galleria Uffizi; the Palazzo Vecchio and the Torre de Vecchio; the plaque marking the location of the Bonfire of the Vanities, which is the same spot where Girolamo Savonarola was garroted and burned; and some of the statues in the piazza. We strolled over to the Ponte Vecchio and Myra looked at the jewelry while Don guarded his wallet. We walked up the Via Calzaiuoli to the Duomo and the Baptistery. We went to the Mercato Centrale and bought some wine, fruit, wine, cheese, wine, bread, salami and wine.

The Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge)

A relatively new “tradition,” borrowed from Paris. The locks attached to the Ponte Vecchio seem to represent the eternal love couples share for one another. In Paris there were so many locks being attached to one particular bridge that the city has removed them due to the danger the added weight has placed on the structural integrity of the bridge.

Kayakers and canoeists are constant features on the Arno.

Don and Myra braving the constant crowds on the Ponte Vecchio. Once it was the home to the local butchers, who dumped the offal straight into the Arno. Sorry, Pisa (40 miles downstream). That practice ended centuries ago when the butchers were kicked off the bridge to make way for jewelers, who are still there. The jewelry is beautiful and expensive.

At the mid-point of the bridge, on the downstream side, stands this bust of Benvenuto Cellini, artist, jeweler, soldier and autobiographer. He created the “Perseo” The statue of Perseus holding aloft the head of Medusa) that stands adjacent to the Loggia dei Lanzi in the Piazza della Signoria. He was told by several famous artists that the statue was impossible to do in a single pour of molten bronze, so he did it.

Cellini’s Perseo

The Loggia dei Lanzi. In other places each of these statues might warrant its own museum. In Florence there is so much art that these stand in this open-air gallery in the Piazza.

Another view of the Perseo, with the Palazzo Vecchio (Old Palace) in the background.

A couple of the several statues under the roof of the Loggia. On the left is Hercules and Nessus, circa 1599 by Giambologna. On the right is Giambologna’s “Rape of the Sabine Women, circa 1583.

A street musician busking on the Via Calzaiuoli.

A carousel in the Piazza della Repubblica.

Art for art’s sake? This artist spends hours recreating famous works of art with chalk on the pavement, knowing it will be quickly erased by the elements or the feet of tourists or the nightly street sweepers, but he still creates these little masterpieces for nothing more than the few euros he might collect from observers and the satisfaction of the work.

The crew each donating a coin and rubbing the nose of Il Porcellino, which tradition dictates will assure good luck.

Two stylin’ Italians. Don wants a pair of the red pants…

Dante standing outside the Basilica Santa Croce.

This is our preferred route home. We could be on the sidewalk across the street, but walking on this treelined path is softer on tired tourist feet. As our stay continues, you’ll be able to see the changing colors of the trees. It’s been noticeable to us in the short time we’ve been here.

We then came home to wait for Chris, who had tried to find an earlier flight from the US and had been stuck in Barcelona waiting for a connection. He made his connection and he arrived. Now we are six.

Don’t touch that channel! We’ll be back soon with the next episode in the continuing saga.