Treading Stones of the Renaissance

I've spent the past few days basking. I don't bask all that often, so it's been a particularly rewarding experience. This is Florence, a city of treasures, and itself a treasure of a city. The bell tower of the duomo is pealing, the sky is bright blue against that building's unusual green and burnt orange marble highlights and fantastic ochre dome, and I'm in one of my favorite places.



This is my fourth visit to these narrow, curving cobblestone streets of Galileo and Michelangelo. As beautiful as the surroundings may be during its brisk days, you can feel the aura of the Renaissance here at night. The bustle of Florence may be 21st Century vitality; the atmosphere for me is pure Vivaldi.

After meeting my friends Kay and Ken in Paris, we flew to Pisa (great discount rates on EasyJet), then railed the short distance to Florence. Our hotel, on the site of one of the Medici family gardens, is around the corner from David, to whom we paid our respects a couple of days ago. Lest there be any debate, let me flatly assert that that sculpture is simply number one. How Michelangelo could conceive and liberate such a magnificent, seemingly breathing work of art out of 17 feet of imperfect marble is astounding. Every visit to that sculpture amazes.

We also spent a long morning navigating the layout of the Uffizi Gallery, one of the great museums of Renaissance art. You name the master, they've got him, in works stretching along long hallways whose ceilings and floors are pieces of art in themselves.

Most of the time in Florence has been enjoyed roaming, eating, shopping, more eating and absorbing the spirit of this town. For related atmosphere, add "A Room With A View" to your Netflix queue. Of particular pleasure: local gelato (nondairy variety), of which I have become quite the proficient. I located my favorite gelato shop, Grom, which hides on one of the small side streets near the duomo. It is known to be the best in the world and I, politely, have never disagreed. There is now a second Grom shop, in the heart of Manhattan.

LEAN ON ME
Today, we spent a balmy day back in Pisa. With temps in the mid-60's, it was perfect weather for the not-so-vertical climb to the top of the "Torre Pendente."



I can attest that the Tower has 300 steps to the very top, having now made that silly ascent twice. However, I did note that the experience was a tad less breathy some 40 years ago. Did the damn thing grow in the interim? In any case, it was fun once again to notice how the wear on its marble steps moves back and forth as the center of gravity keeps shifting. No carillon of bells on the hour this time, thankfully. In 1973, I was caught climbing the thin rail ladder to the top "layer," just as the four huge bells tolled the hour. Being able neither to hold my ears nor let go of the railing, I just froze there screaming along with the gongs. Finally on top, I looked down to the plaza below and saw my father pointing up at me. Later I learned that someone in our tour, seeing me at the summit, asked him, "Isn't that your son?," to which my father, peering up, shook his finger in my direction, and called, "Alan, you come down here, this instant!" Good old Papa Sid.

We depart Florence with regret in the morning. But it's on to three days driving around the hill towns of Tuscany and Umbria. I can take it.

Location:Florence, Italy