June 11 - Firenze
Florence did not disappoint, even if we only saw the outsides of things. The slow curving roads are a master class in how to build a city that is pleasing to the eye. That said, after waking up I looked to buy tickets to see David. Sold out for today and the next. I tried other sites and got shut down across the board. Pam and I like to travel by the seat of our pants, but this trip could have used a bit more structure if we wanted to see what all the fuss is about regarding a guy who was good with the business end of a chisel. Lack of planning doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the city though.
Before making it to the first real stop, Pam suddenly got far more excited than I was prepared for in a crowd. Turns out I was too busy looking at a market bursting with leather goods and shawls to notice what she was pointing at. Want a shirt with Firenze on it? I know the place. But that’s not what animated Pam. She pointed out a “piggy.” It was a boar with water coming out of its mouth. Tourists apparently love touching the snout and tongue. I would say “when in Rome” but I’m slightly more cultured now.
The real first stop was the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. We didn’t go in, tickets required, but the outside alone is worth the trip. The marble facade is so over the top that you just stand there wondering how anyone thought to build it, let alone pulled it off. Construction started in 1296 and took 140 years to finish. When it was done it was the largest cathedral in the world. Florence was basically in a Tuscan arms race with Pisa and Siena over who could build the most ridiculous church.
The dome was designed by Filippo Brunelleschi, who won a public competition for it. Nobody had figured out how to dome a space that big before him, so he essentially invented the technique as he went. It still holds the world record for the largest brick and mortar dome ever built. Using Claude AI as our tour guide again, we learned the incredible marble facade wasn’t even original. It was replaced in 1874 with the version we got to see.
From there we walked past the Cappelle Medicee, the burial complex for the Medici family. Again, outside only. Still impressive. The Medicis apparently needed everyone to know they had more money than God, and they made sure the architecture said so.
On to il Mercato Centrale. Two floors of food and chaos. The ground floor is a proper fresh market, the kind where you have no idea what half the things are but you want all of them. Upstairs is a food hall open until midnight, which seems like a dangerous piece of information to have. I found some Caprese that looked good. It wasn’t bad, moving on. Pam had a bruschetta wrap that would have given me more words to write if I had gotten more than a morsel of it. We had a nice glass of white wine to wash it all down.
With bellies satisfied enough that they would not join forces in a revolt fitting for the land we were in, we made it to Piazza della Signoria to see the replica of David. Still hard to believe you can sell out of seeing a statue. The replica is in its original location, which actually carries some weight. This is where it stood for 369 years. Good enough for us.
Next to David is a sculpture that stopped me in my tracks, though not for cultured reasons. It looked like two guys having way more fun than I was comfortable with. I took a picture and asked Claude about it.
He gave me a whole spiel. Apparently it’s called Hercules and Cacus, by some guy named Bandinelli. Cacus, the fellow on the bottom, is supposed to be a fire-breathing dragon who stole some livestock and got dragged out of his cave to answer for it. To this uncultured baboon it looks like two naked MMA fighters, one about to put the other in a choke hold. There is zero dragon energy happening. None.
Michelangelo reportedly called it “a sack of melons.” Guy was absolutely right.
The day was getting on and we wanted to freshen up before the Vespa tour. On our way to the tour there was a bucket list item to check off. A wine in the wall
The Vespa tour was fantastic. The guide was a self-transplanted London guy who got bored on the train to Naples and got off in Florence 10 years ago. Ourselves and a family of seven joined the tour. We learned later it was a graduation gift for one of the kids. We were taken outside the city for a crash course in Vespa riding. The guide was smart enough to have everyone drive around a parking lot first to assess abilities and get comfortable. Then he put us in a line based on what he saw. Pam got the honor of riding behind the guide while I took last.
Then we were off. The Chianti region of Italy is just beautiful. I can see the attraction to the landscape when the hot mess of the tourist areas doesn’t do it for you. This is one of those experiences that can’t be put into normal narrative prose. The pictures tell the story. After our eyes were filled with rolling hills of grapes and olives, we parked the Vespas and were taken to a small farm running an olive operation and a 5,000 bottle a year winery. We were shown to a table, given fantastic tomatoes with olive oil, and got to taste a couple of wines. A rose and a white if I remember correctly. Our guide then offered to drop us at the bronze David on the hill overlooking the city. All we had to do was walk downhill. The place was packed, it was nearing sunset, we were hot, and I had to pee something fierce. We walked back to the Airbnb.
Dinner was around the corner. We sat outside, watched the sun set, and talked about the Vespa experience while the people of Florence walked by.
To put the punctuation on this day: I saw more male genitalia in the last eight hours than in the previous fifty years of my life combined. Not exactly a feather I thought I’d have for my hat, but there you have it.
