At least the only Golden Arches we saw was at the station

It’s Friday and it’s shopping day. I’m excited by this, as I’ve promised myself a piece of jewellery as a belated birthday present. As we cross the Ponte Vecchio, I look in one or two windows, but I already know the sort of thing I want. As I look, I also spot some pendants – they’re in the shape of masks - I’m hooked, as they tick both the boxes of ‘drama’ and ‘Venice’ (yes, I’m in Firenze, but it’s still Italy!). Before I know it I have a new mask pendant. Next it’s the ring shop. I know it when I try it on. It has a turquoise stone, it matches my nails, it’s the one. I have what Cat calls my ‘Cheshire cat’ grin.

The afternoon is slightly less fun, as I nearly loose my handbag in the Palazzo Vecchio – I’ve just climbed a flight of stairs, commenting how much hard work it must have been for the servants, when I realise I must have left in the last room - two flights down. I hurry back, with that awful cold feeling of fear gripping me. Panic. Thankfully, it’s still there.

In the evening we’ve booked to go on an evening walking tour. Only we what we didn’t realise was that the ‘native English speaking guide’ would turn out to be ‘native American speaking’. The tour is geared to the lowest common denominator, and tonight that’s the American tourist who has clearly never opened a guide book or read any European history. As we’re standing on the Ponte Trinita, ‘who were the Medici?’ The guide discusses the devastating flood that hit Florence in the 1960’s when the Arno burst it’s banks, damaging many works of art ‘gee, did that affect Rome?’ The tour is interesting, but I get the feeling we’re only skimming the surface because of the audience. As the organisers are a theatre company, I thought we might get some dramatic re-enactments of some of the tales, but we don’t. Maybe there’s a gap in the market?

We do see parts of the city that we otherwise wouldn’t have, though, including the house of Bianca Cappallo, whose story, I comment, sounds like a Jacobean tragedy. After I’m home, I discover that Middleton’s ‘Women Beware Women' is based on it.

'It's like Whitby Abbey steps - twice!'

‘Be honest, did you think I’d wimp out?’
‘Yes, I did’

Cat decided that she wanted to climb the 414 steps of the Campanile di Giotto. I did this 17 years ago, and wasn’t sure if I could do it again – after all, I get out of breath climbing upstairs, so I was a little worried. I did want to try though, to prove that I could still do it.

I don’t think I made my final decision until we were going in, and even then I was thinking, ‘I’ll stop, if it gets too much’.

Well, I did stop, for quite a while, at each level, but I made it. Sadly, the photographic evidence is on film, so you’ll just have to believe me. They’re put up a sort of wire mesh though, which wasn’t there before. Health and safety again, I guess. The views are certainly spectacular, and we could look down on our rooftop terrace where we’d had breakfast.

After we reached ground level again, I heard myself saying ‘you know, we should climb York Minster one day’. I may have been delusional owing to the altitude!

Stendahl's Syndrome

It’s our first full day in Firenze* and when I see the sign saying that the expected queuing time is two hours, I’m very glad we’ve pre-booked tickets for the Uffizi Gallery. Finding the correct door to collect the tickets proves to be a bit of a challenge though.

As we climb the stairs, I’m already slightly over-awed at the space (and yes, in my head, I’m wearing velvet, and silk, and pearls, circa 16th C. - maybe they should introduce dressing up?!) The first few rooms are full of crucifixions, and ‘madonna and child’s, and remind me of the Byzantine art we saw in the Haghia Sophia in Istanbul. As we wander from room to room, the whole development of western art unfolds before us.

The ‘stars’ of the collection are the famous Renaissance pieces, ‘The Birth of Venus’, ‘Primavera’, but there are equally stunning not so famous pieces, women with beautiful tranquil faces, and enigmatic men. We reach the Tribune with its Medici portraits, and I’m fascinated to see the faces of the people who were responsible for so much of this, not just as patrons of the artists, but as the shapers of the city. It’s an incredible demonstration of power and influence.

As we continue, and one hour stretches to two, I’m beginning to get Renaissance overload, and be at risk of Stendahl’s Syndrome**. So much art does go to your head. We take a ‘breather’, in the café which overlooks the Piazza, only, you can’t look over, as you’re not allowed to stand on the parapet! It’s pretty quiet, although there are too may pigeons for my liking.

*For we must indeed have the Italian spelling and pronunciation
**Apparently they still have about 10 cases a year, according to my guidebook

Second impressions

As we arrive in Florence the airport coach crosses the Arno, and there spread before us is the view from all those images and films. The sun is shining and it looks beautiful. I’ve been before, but it was 17 years ago on a trip that also took me to Venice and Lake Garda. Now I reflect on it, I recall little of the actual experience of Florence and think that was because I fell so utterly in love with Venice that it faded in the memory. ‘Seventeen years’ is a refrain that I think Cat must have got sick of hearing over the last few days.

We walk from the station to our accommodation, which is just near the Duomo. It proves a little difficult to find, so I have to try out my Italian and ask a policeman. We still end up speaking English though. Walking back the way that we’ve come, we spot a tiny sign next to a huge door, and ring the bell. The Residenza is on the top floor, and we start up the stairs with our heavy cases. We reach the first floor before I realise that there is actually a lift!

Our room is comfortable and spacious, and when we look out of the window we can see the Duomo and the Campanile di Giotto. This really is a ‘room with a view’ that E.M. Forster* would have been proud of. After unpacking, we venture out and walk around the Piazza del Duomo, and down to the Uffizi Gallery and the Ponte Vecchio. I’m slightly dazzled by all the goldsmiths as we cross it, selling jewellery so ostentatious that much of it is too ‘bling’ even for me! It’s all very busy with tour groups playing ‘follow the umbrella’ and I’m very glad that we can deviate from the main tourist track.

Everywhere you look is a photo opportunity. You look upwards, and a shop turns out to be housed in a 15th C. palazzo. I’m a little overwhelmed by all the history, and thoughts of all those who have walked here before me. I feel slightly drunk and light headed at the thought.

Later, after a fantastic meal, we return to a much quieter Piazza della Signoria for a drink and we’re able to enjoy the statues under the Loggia de Lanzi that was earlier crowded with people. Nearby, someone is playing some music - this has to be close to heaven.

*OK, so it’s not a view of the Arno