Florence

I find it hard to decide if I like Florence or not. I know I should feel overwhelmed by a city as huge as it is but I don’t. I think this is a good thing. I assume it is because I feel more comfortable in the role of traveler and my awful, terrible, and horrible sense of direction is slowly but surely becoming less of a burden. I think the key to traveling to such large places is having a plan: picking out specific places that must be seen (and accepting the fact that seeing every single museum and church and painting and sculpture is impossible) and leaving a little wiggle room for shopping and eating. Another key is being able to take that plan and abandon it completely. Sometimes when the mind has an order, the body demands another, such as plopping down outside the Duomo after an exhausting climb to the top of the world and not thinking about anything else at that moment except how much my feet want to kill me. I find that being able to balance both keys will ensure a satisfactory visit. No, I didn’t go jewelry shopping on the Ponte Vecchio. Instead I climbed 463 steps to the top of the Duomo. I doubt I will ever do it again but if I had to do it over, I totally would. The climb up wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be and the view was beyond imagining but there were so many people up there (many of them frustrated by the climb which I had no patience for because they were given fair warning) that I felt really dampened the experience. Then I was able to be less than an inch away from Michelangelo’s fresco that he painted on the ceiling of the dome and felt a thousand times better. It’s beautifully grotesque. It depicts both heaven and hell and Jesus is doing his holy duty by sitting on his throne and looking down onto his faithful believers and his angels are flying around being happy as pie while all kinds of cruel, torturous things are being done to the people in hell. Beautifully grotesque is really all I’ve got. I managed to see Michelangelo’s “David” too. David is quite large. That’s all I really have to say about him. Everyone knows that he is a magnificent sculpture and that one cannot possibly fathom an imagination like Michelangelo’s but no one ever tells you just how big he is. So now I’m telling you: David is very, very big. Telling you this will not change the reaction you will have which, I swear, will be “Wow, David is a gigantic statue”. David is from the Bible story “David and Goliath” by the way. Did I make that connection before this weekend? Of course not. It’s not Italy if some piece of art isn’t making you feel like a complete idiot.

Speaking of art, the Uffizi is the place to go if you want to experience art overdrive. It was originally built for the Medici’s as their office buildings and now houses so many “Annunciations”, Madonna with Child”, and other Bible story paintings you’d swear you’d taken a step back in time. The first floor consists of sketches and prints and the second floor houses paintings and sculptures. This massive collection took the entire morning to view and we didn’t even see the first floor. I did get to see Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” and “La Primavera” and neither was a disappointment. They are rather large paintings and I wish I could have taken a picture but alas, no cameras allowed. Par for the course I guess. I find I quite enjoy an artist by the name of Luca Signorelli. He was a student of Piero della Francesca and I just love his work. I can’t really explain why, but I just have a strong reaction whenever I see a painting of his.

I didn’t buy anything while I was in Florence. Don’t get me wrong, I love some good old Italian leather…I just don’t like good old Italian leather prices. I’m a frugal kind of person. That wasn’t going to change because I am in Italy. It’s hard to explain, but nothing struck me as something I desperately needed to buy. I realize that I might not ever go back to Florence but I spent my money on museums and churches and I’m ok with that. That’s something else I’ve had to come to terms with: just because I’m in Italy doesn’t mean I have to stretch my bank account to its farthest limits. I don’t have to buy everyone I know something from every city I go to and being frugal is an ok thing to be. Here is an interesting shopping observation about Florence. They have a Disney store which thrilled me to no end. What that store does not have is my favorite Disney princess of all time: Belle. My reasoning? It’s because she’s French.

People in Florence do not speak Italian to you. They speak in English and become extremely excited if you even attempt to speak Italian. They will ask “You understand Italian?” and you reply “Un piccolo” (“A little”) and then they proceed to blather in Italian regardless of whether you can understand them or not. They immediately become much more amiable and helpful when they discover that you are at least attempting to speak their language. It has brought to light a brand new set of opinions for me. In the future, when I plan on going to a country whose language I don’t know, I will strive to learn as much as I can before I leave and during my stay as well as carry around a phrase book. I am so grateful to be in a small town where I am forced to speak Italian. One of the more frustrating memories of Florence occurred during breakfast on our second day. During breakfast, there were attendants who refilled cutlery, plates, and food. An American woman got up to ask one of the attendants for another plate. When the attendant didn’t understand her, the American proceeded to raise her voice and just repeat “Plate! Plate!” which of course achieved nothing except to disturb fellow eaters. If the woman had simply looked up the Italian word for plate in a phrase book, annoyance and embarrassment could have been avoided.

If you go to Italy and feel the need to cry your eyes out, look no further than Florentine opera. My travel companion, Chelsea, and I managed to get very cheap tickets to see Verdi’s “La Traviata”. “La Traviata” is what movies such as “Pretty Woman” and “Moulin Rouge” are based on. The basis of the story line is that a prostitute, Violetta, falls head over heels in love with a young man, Alfredo, who loves her desperately back. Unfortunately, Violetta is deathly ill with tuberculosis and Alfredo’s father has interfered with his son’s love life and basically forced Violetta to give Alfredo up. In the end, all miscommunication is revealed and Violetta and Alfredo are able to be back in each others arms just as Violetta’s life leaves her. As a reminder, this is an Italian opera so nothing can be understood but the pure beauty of voice and piano are often universally comprehensible. During the last act I proceeded to cry profusely a.) because I am a hopeless romantic and it wasn’t fair that Violetta had to die and b.) because the feeling and power behind the voices was pure magic. So I made a fool of myself but I think it was well worth it.

Florence is a whirlwind kind of town. It is easy to like and easy to be disappointed in as well. I’m not sure I can explain this last comment. I think that Florence is just a place you have to experience and feel for yourself.