River Arno of my dreams, at last!

Florence, Italy My husband Alex and I arrived in Florence one early summer afternoon, the sun shining brightly as we got out of the Santa Maria Novella train station. Locating our affitacamere (a private house rented out to tourists) called Paola’s House on the map, we found Viale Spartacus Lavagnini, 48 to be a small quiet street about eight blocks from the station. After depositing our luggage and meeting the owner’s daughter who handed over the keys to us, we took advantage of the long summer day and immediately hied off to the center of town. We passed by Via SC D’Alessandria and Via Nazionale and saw the open-air cafés, well-lit and full of diners. When we turned a corner and looked up we couldn’t help but gasp, as we beheld the big dome of the Duomo with its characteristic white lines. Soon we were standing in front of the façade of the Cattedrale de Sta. Maria de Fiore, Florence’s cathedral. Clichés they may be, but the words that came to mind were “magnificent" and “unearthly." Before us was an intricately carved, Gothic-Renaissance cathedral, with intricate carvings and statues filling its every space, and a beautiful rose-window. In the afternoon sun, the very walls seemed to look pink and yellow, the green and white marble colors melding into one pastel painting. Looking up one beheld the dome, an engineering feat by Filippo Bruelleschi “…using interlocking bricks to support the double-shelled structure," or so it was said. Going into the cathedral was a bit anti-climactic because after the sumptuous feast outside, we found the interiors dark and cold. But when our eyes had adjusted to the dim lights we appreciated the beautiful paintings especially in the ceiling -- that of the Apocalypse -- and an orologio or a clock made by Uccello which did not really give time as it ran backwards, starting from around 6 PM at dusk. Outside we encountered the Baptistery, an octagonal building in front of the cathedral, with similar green and white colors as the duomo. An interesting facet was the bronze doors, depicting Biblical scenes in exquisite detail sculpted by Ghiberti during the 15th century. The campanile beside the cathedral matched the opulence of the Duomo in color and texture. We found our way to the famous Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge), which used to house butchers and slaughterhouses. They were driven away by the Medicis during the 16th century and instead, goldsmith, diamond carvers and artisan shops were created that remain until today. And finally too, I saw with my very own eyes the river, the Arno of my dreams, seen only in sepia postcards, the sun setting behind one of the many antique bridges spanning it. It seemed to flow serenely forever, unmindful of the hustle and bustle of Florence. The next day we arose early for a brisk walk to one of the highlights of this Florence trip: a visit to the famed Uffizi (literally, the “Office"), so-called because it used to house the administrative offices of the Medici dynasty. Here were two floors with 45 rooms filled to the brim with art works, most of them already familiar to us because we see them often in books and magazines. Alex and I had already purchased tickets, because we knew the queue would be long. Through the Internet, and for a minimal fee of €1.55, we got tickets for that specific day and entry time (a total of €10 each). Armed with our printed tickets, we managed to be the first to enter the museum, standing on the line that said “Prenotato." We also rented an Audio Guide, so that we could go around at our own pace. The first floor alone was full of sketches by Botticelli, Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo, plus numerous Roman marble statues. Walking up the stairs to the second floor, we braced ourselves for a day with the Florentine Renaissance masters. Not all the Salas were open, but those that were took our breaths away. In Salas 10 to 14, my hair stood on end as I beheld the Primavera and the Birth of Venus by Botticelli. The colors were brilliant, as if they were painted very recently. Later we learned that the works glowed because of recent art restoration jobs. There were many religious and biblical themes, paintings of the Blessed Virgin: Annunciations, Visitations, Adoration of the Magi... Raphael, Michelangelo’s only oil painting (Doni Tondo), Mantegna, Titian, Parmigianino, Tintoretto and Veronese, to name a few. We broke for lunch at around 2 PM, and sat in one of the stone benches at the second floor balcony overlooking the dome of the Cathedral: home-made sandwiches, fresh peaches, bottled water and beer. We didn’t want to go out of the museum, seeing the very long queue snaking around its side, nor go to the museum cafeteria which had its own long line. After the pause though, it seemed that our mind slowed down. After six straight hours our minds simply wanted to shut down because of the sensory overload. Our feet of course had long been complaining, since Sala 20, even if we were wearing very comfortable running shoes! The rest of the afternoon was spent in our favorite Salas and looking at specific paintings again, taking in more details, feeling the atmosphere. A day later we saw with our eyes Michelangelo’s David at the Accademia and could not believe it was made of marble— the very skin seemed to throb with life, its eyes wary and quick. Florence also offered us beautiful churches like the Chiesa di Santa Croce, where Alex stood beneath a gigantic statue of Dante Alighieri, and Chiesa di Santa Maria Novella near the main train station; several palaces, like the Palazzo Strozzi and Palazzo Pitti; and the Piazza della Repubblica. At the Orsanmichele we discovered that there was an Italian Dante Society, where professors read Dante’s poetry in Italian (that time it was from the Inferno and the Purgatorio) for free at this church! On our last day we climbed up the Piazzale Michelangelo and had a heartbreakingly beautiful view of Florence, its Duomo, the square tower of Palazzo Vecchio, the ochre-colored houses, the Tuscan hills beyond: a painting that seemed to have come out of the brushes of the Renaissance master painters themselves. After that, we climbed another hill to see the English cemetery. The area was leafy and tranquil, and a printed guide led us to the graves of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and the descendants of William Shakespeare, among others. We reluctantly bade goodbye to the Arno the next day, and knew in our hearts that we shall indeed, return! - YA, GMA News