First stop: Milano, which is pretty much where you have to stop if you're headed to Italy on a Friday evening. (Yeah, I just said that. Living in Switzerland definitely has its perks, I'm not going to kid you.) We arrived a bit late-ish, had a sadly mediocre meal at a restaurant that used to be pretty decent (sigh), and then hit the trail the next morning for some very-brief sightseeing. (We didn't budget much time for Milano, since--despite the fact that it has a castle full of museums and Da Vinci's 'Last Supper' and a great view from the cathedral roof--we had an actual appointment to keep in the afternoon, but more about that later.)
One cannot stop in Milano, however, without seeing the cathedral. (Oh, that old thing?) It's one of those places that has lots of "largest cathedral in [insert country/continent/planet here]" claims, but it is, as a fact, one of the largest churches in the world. As such, it is truly spectacular, and it doesn't ever disappoint.
An illicit photo I took inside before we got yelled at, and then found out that you now have to purchase wristbands to take pictures in there. (Lame. It most certainly was not that way the last time we were there.)
We also ducked into the archaeological site beneath the church, which I think is fantastic: among heaps of other interesting things, it contains this 4th-century baptismal font (where St. Augustine was baptized, supposedly), and, on the wall in the back here, some 13th-century frescoes.
And then, we were off to Firenze (Florence, to the layperson), both to meet up with my Dad's sister Kathleen and her husband Lynden--yay!--and to see Michelangelo's 'David'. That, friends, was our appointment. We arrived in town with just enough time to check into the absolutely amazing apartment Mike found for us (just off the Piazza della Signoria--he is winning at airbnb!), and then to walk-jog to our designated 4:15 meet-up time with Aunt Kak and Uncle Lynden. (I have just realized that I failed entirely to take any photos of my beloved aunt and uncle together, and I feel terrible about that. So amazing to get to meet up with them in Italy!! However, as always, the sheer number of pictures I took of everything else was quite overwhelming. Brace yourselves. Florence is gorgeous and amazing.)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, the 'David' is why you go to the Accademia, but I also love that you get to walk down this large hall full of Michelangelo's unfinished sculptures to get to it.
These things are so full of motion--it looks like they're clawing their way out of the marble by themselves. Love these.
The man himself. Always riveting. You could easily spend a half-hour just staring slack-jawed at this guy...it's no wonder he's so famous.
We also ducked into the music museum at the Accademia, whereupon I figured out that we've actually seen a real-live hurdy-gurdy in action! (These two are from 1775.)
The world's first keytar...? (It is actually labeled as a "piano-guitar," ca. 1793.)
Oh, yeah...and then we walked by this little place on the way to dinner. Another landmark cathedral that is, frankly, mind-blowing both in size and in ornamentation (well, at least on the outside).
Dinner our first night in Florence was at Acqua al 2, a fun little place whose entire menu you can order as sampler courses. Which means that between the six of us, we split four bowls of different pastas, three types of meat, and a couple of dessert plates, all of which were excellent. (In particular, though, they had a black-truffle pasta that was quite lovely [not too overwhelming, as truffle is wont to be], and beef with a reduced balsamic sauce, which was spectacular, as was the sliced beef on flatbread with arugula and parmesan slices--my favorite).
Day two began with brunch from what turned out to be Tripadvisor's number-one-rated restaurant in all of Florence--which, naturally, was a sandwich shop.* (I will admit that I was quite proud that we'd found it organically, however. And that I foisted it on everyone first thing in the day.) We'd noticed All'antico Vinaio--a hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop just big enough for a walk-up counter--the evening before, due to the line out the door and the dinner-plate-sized paninis people were eating with great relish (pun intended...? I'm not sure) on the curb outside. Fair enough, Tripadvisor. Those were some sandwiches. We took them and ate on the steps of the Loggia dei Lanzi on Piazza della Signoria, and silently thanked our ability to plan these things for ourselves as we watched the ginormous tour groups swirl about in confusion and chaos on the square below. (Well, at least, that's what I was thinking.)
Here, Mom looking a bit incredulous at the sheer size of her sandwich, and Dad going for it.
The ol' Loggia. Did I mention the crowds...? And this was October, people.
Next, we thought we'd try to get into Santa Croce...
...but it turned out to be closed, for some unknown reason...
...so we headed to Ponte Vecchio ("old bridge"), which was built in 1345 and is lined in tiny jewelers' shops. (Starting in 1593, it was goldsmiths' shops, but I get the impression that there are far fewer craftsmen than importers and salesmen there now.) Notably, this was the only bridge across the Arno River that the Germans didn't destroy in their retreat from Italy during World War II.
On our way back to meet up with Aunt Kak and Uncle Lynden at the Uffizi Gallery, we wound through some narrow little alleys and found this amazing one full of buttresses way, way above the street. (Do these count as being of the "flying" variety? I'm not entirely sure.)
And then, the Uffizi! I think this was my fourth time there, and frankly, it was just as amazing as ever...but with more people. (Ugh. I really, really like Florence--it's truly special--but I don't think they have an off-season anymore.) At least they still have a room full of Botticelli.
And this 1st-century marble dog. Which is actually a copy of some sculptures from the 3rd century BC. (Interesting note about the Uffizi: they have tons upon tons of sculptures like these, which are super old themselves, but are actually copies of even older pieces. It's kinda bizarre, actually.)
Madonna and child with angels, ca. 1493, Botticelli. This guy was an extraordinary talent.
A lovely view from the Uffizi overlooking the Ponte Vecchio. Cripes, this city is picturesque.
What I now call the "Room of Action Sculptures." (It's a far more fun way to think of a room full of sculptures of the children of Niobe, yeesh. Thanks for the uplifting tale of morality, ancient Greece.)
Roman altar inscribed in both Greek and Latin, 1st-century AD, demonstrating (yet again) the Romans' utter enthrallment with the ancient Greeks.
A little cupid that Mike has determined is hearing "Simply the Best" in his head.**
A rare easel (i.e., not on a wall or ceiling) painting by Michelangelo, the Holy Family with St. John the Baptist, ca. 1506-1508. Michelangelo designed the frame, too...and I think it's utterly bizarre, with the wee heads sticking out. But, you know, good for him.
So for reals, this 14th-century painting of the Madonna and child (Andrea di Vanni, 1370) has actual gems in it. Mmmmmm, real gems...
Towards the end our afternoon in the Uffizi gallery (3-4 hours, and sadly, the Dutch Masters' rooms were closed, or it would have been more), Mike and I stopped for a beverage in their rooftop cafe, which has stunning views and tons of wee little adorable finches begging for crumbs. (I'm not a big bird person--HA, HA, BIG BIRD--but I really dig finches, for some reason. Must...feed...)
They're so dang little and hoppy! And, as far as I know, exponentially less pestilential than those gigantic, creepy, pushy, orange-eyed pigeons. This little guy actually took some crumbs from my fingers. I wanted to take him home.
Not to say that the highlight of my Uffizi visit was this little finch--the Botticelli room is, and always will be, incentive enough for me to brave the crowds--but he was awfully cute.***
Ahem...returning to non-finch-related events. Dinner that evening was at an absolutely fantastic restaurant that serves traditional, seasonal food, and was recommended to us several years ago by a local--Trattoria 4 Leoni. For once in my life, I actually didn't bother to write down what we were eating, and just enjoyed my meal...but I can tell you that Mike and I split our first-ever osso buco (ok, so it's not so much for me...), and that when I ordered a plate of some sort of pasta I'd never heard of before, it came with a scoop of Castelmagno gelato (cheese!) on top. (It was weird and delicious.)
On the morning of Day 3, we returned to Santa Croce, and this time it was actually open, so in we all went. (Just FYI, Santa Croce is maybe one of the more art- and history-packed places I've ever been: pretty much every famous Florentine is buried there, or frescoed something there, or designed some part of the building.)
Just outside, though, we saw this ridiculously small one-seater, three-wheeled car. And...THE DRIVER'S SEAT IS A PLASTIC CHAIR THAT LOOKS LIKE IT CAME FROM AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. Utterly spectacular. Mom included for scale.
Anyway. On to serious matters. Despite the 19th-century facade, this church is really old. Construction began in 1294 and it was completed somewhere around the end of the 14th or beginning of the 15th century.
The interior of the church is fairly visually overwhelming, full of sculpted tombs and frescoed walls. Here, the Cappella Bardi, frescoed by Giotto and his students.
And--oh yeah--among others, Michelangelo is buried here. (For the rest, see this.)
The Arno overflowed its banks in 1966 and flooded the church up to the level of this plaque (about 5 meters). It took decades for the building and its collections to recover, although some of the archives and absolutely priceless artworks were damaged beyond repair (not to mention those at other historic institutions, plus the property and human costs as well!). Somehow, this was a wee detail about Florence that I'd entirely forgotten (or maybe even overlooked...?), and it was quite jarring to learn about it again.****
Fresco of scenes from the life of Christ, in the sacristy. Painted by the school of Giotto in the 14th century.
The sacristy also contains a 15th-century terra cotta bust of Christ by Andrea della Robbia (from a prolific family of terra cotta-ers!). Polychrome terra cotta: another artistic detail about Florence that I may have previously overlooked. (Maybe it's 'cause they're not as flashy as sculpture or big wall-sized frescoes that I didn't remember them being there, or being such a common artistic medium in the city. My apologies to the della Robbias.)
Look, more terra cotta! Small dome outside the Cappella de' Pazzi, attributed to Luca della Robbia (Andrea's uncle) in the mid-15th century. (I just really like the colors and fancy patterns, myself.)
Second cloisters, and a nice surprise--this place was totally quiet and devoid of tourists (well, other than me, obviously).
I know this angel is probably supposed to be sad--I'm sure this is someone's tomb or memorial monument--but he looks resigned to me. "As always, I'm the only one ready on time. Guess I'll just wait on top of this lion. Sigh."
After Santa Croce, we called an audible and decided to visit the Casa Buonarotti, which was included in our ticket price and turned out to be a tremendous idea--where else can you be more-or-less nose-to-nose with Michelangelo sculptures and designs in utter peace and quiet? (There was no one else there, people!) It's actually a collection of Michelangelo-related miscellanea (ok, and just some miscellaneous miscellanea) in the house of Michelangelo Buonarroti the younger--the original's great-nephew--but the building itself is stunning. Even better--and, frankly, entirely unexpectedly--there are lots of small and early pieces from the man himself, and even a few paper sketches and designs, which (apparently) are quite rare, since he regularly destroyed his designs and even entire finished works, and, later in life, burned most of his remaining papers. The place was utterly fascinating and well worth the visit. No photos allowed, naturally, but there are some decent ones here and here.
Next, we decided to hit the Duomo. Despite its intricate and candy-like exterior...
Just...wow.
...the interior is fairly spartan. With the exception of the crazy designs in the marble on the floor, and Brunelleschi's dome, of course.
Yeah...it's pretty special. (Super interesting architectural-history-nerdery article here.) Paintings by Giorgio Vasari and someone named Zuccaro (sorry, buddy, you got a bit overshadowed there) in the 16th century.
Then, as we are wont to do, we went under the cathedral for a little explorin' of their archaeological crypt, which contains the remnants of a previous church on the site called Santa Reparata (built in the 5th century, demolished in the 14th).
Among other things, it's got lots of fancy mosaic floors.
Here, a mosaic list of the donors who contributed to the aforementioned mosaic-ing of the floor, in order of how many feet they funded. (HAH. Some things never change.)
Plenty of medieval tombstones down there, too...
...as well as some really remarkable fresco remnants (this one's from the 14th century)...
...and even the tomb of a Medici. Giovanni de, deceased 1352, to be specific. Apparently, he was buried with his sword and his spurs.
We also managed to fit in a visit to the octagonal Baptistery of St. John (probably dating to the 11th century), one of the more famous buildings both in art and in Christendom, and, of course, entirely covered in scaffolding while we were there. Thankfully, the interior was still accessible.
The entire ceiling is decorated with these incredible, intensely detailed mosaics from the 13th century.
Walls and niches: also super fancy.
Afterwards, I made a seemingly stupid decision and followed Dad, Mike, and Aunt Kak into the ridiculously long and slow-moving line to climb the dome. I've climbed it before, mind you, but that was several years ago and I couldn't really remember what sort of staircases they had in there. Which might not seem terribly important, but it is to me. In my (relatively limited) experience, it's safe to assume that when climbing any sort of old tower or dome, there will always a series of tight, narrow, seemingly endless stone spiral staircases, the ascension of which I don't seem to mind...but the climbing down is the Worst. Thing. Ever. I think it has something to do with my propensity for motion sickness, but getting into that plodding stepping rhythm and spiraling downwards in a tiny, tight, dark circle for more than a few minutes makes me feel like I need to pass out and to hurl, in no particular order. Anyway. We survived and triumphed, and the views weren't too shabby.
Santa Croce on the far left, Piazza della Signoria on the right.
You can't tell this from the ground, but climbing the dome puts you higher than the top level of the bell tower. Neat.
Did I mention that you get to walk around the inside of the dome twice on the climb? Yesssss.
After the climb, we celebrated with a few aperitivi nearby, then said our sad goodbyes to Aunt Kak and Uncle Lynden. (They were off to Venice, though, so it was all right.) Despite the presence of some really amazing-looking dining establishments near our apartment--this one, for example--everything seemed to be closed or fully booked (Monday nights in Italy, bah!), so we grabbed a quick (and, sadly, unremarkable) pizza and called it a night. It was ok, though, because the next day, we were headed to Genoa, the birthplace of pesto, and home to all the delicious squiggly seafood you care to eat. (In my case, that's a lot.)
Next up: surprise! It's Genoa.
*Have I mentioned how completely and utterly obsessed I am with the sandwiches in Italy? I think, perhaps, I have. Recently, even. I'm fairly certain that in Italy, I could eat a sandwich for every single meal and have no regrets or complaints. Best meats, cheeses, breads anywhere, hands-down. Also, have you ever noticed that the number-one restaurants in any given city on Tripadvisor are either pizzerias, ice cream shops, or sandwich places? It's universally true. People can't be trusted to eat and then rate anything else, apparently.
**A song which I will forever hear in the falsetto of Alec Baldwin. Thanks, Mike and '30 Rock.'
***And brought to mind the last time a wild animal ate out of my hand: I was 12 years old and at the top of Horn Peak, near Westcliffe, Colorado, and a chipmunk took a peanut out of my hand and licked my fingers. Sadly, there exists no photographic proof, but I, my Dad, and that chipmunk know it happened.
****And also, did you know that in the process of "modernization" during the Counter-Reformation, Giorgio Vasari--quite the artist himself, an art historian, and the designer of none other than Michelangelo's tomb--destroyed and/or painted over many of the original frescoes in Santa Croce? The existing frescoes have been painstakingly restored, some only as recently as the mid-19th century. Insanity.
