An evening in Florence

We pulled into the train station in Florence around 6 in the evening.  The thrill of those early moments remain vivid, scanning the distance for the first glance of the Duomo, whose famous dome is perhaps the most recognizable symbol of the Renaissance.  We crossed the street and headed past a beautiful marble church next to the train station.  Worthy of all the admiration we could heap on it, this church did not rank high enough on our list of sights to ever warrant a viewing, such was the history and architecture of this wondrous place.

With darkness approaching, we made our way to our hotel.  We walked down narrow alleys filled with shops.  The sheer quantity of small businesses we would see this night and throughout our trip was astounding.  While understanding that tourism generates vast quantities of revenue for the city, I still do not see how this location could support so many art collectors, boutiques, and tradesman of such varieties.  We saw a bronzeworker working late into the night through his shop window, and Arthur, trying to take it all in, was chided by Alex to hurry up so we could get our stuff stored.

We crossed the Arno river and found our way to our hotel.  We were actually staying in a guest house that is operated by Waldensian (the Methodist equivalent in Italy).  The proceeds from the guest house fund their program for disadvantaged children.  Plus since the rooms and amenities were basic we got a great deal on  room in the heart of Florence.  The clerk led us up to our spacious room, and within a few minutes, we were out the door again, unencumbered by our luggage and looking to experience some of the nightlife of this beautiful town.  Also since we were packing light with just backpacks  it was time to do the laundry again.  Over this trip we realized how much we appreciate a washer after washing clothes in the sink by hand.  As you can see with the laundry hanging in the bathroom there wasn't must room left to get around.  But this is the nitty-gritty part of travel that then allowed us to go out and spend a lovely evening in the heart of Florence.

 We headed towards San Spirito square to get some Rick-Steves-approved chow.  An old European city like Florence is almost entirely narrow streets until you find a church.  There, and only there, will you find a public square, and these centers are the center of Italian social life.

Italians generally live in rather small apartments which they do not heat or cool to near the extent Americans do.  To an extent, this contributes to the fact that they spend far less time at home than us.  They meet each other in a public square like San Spirito where they eat or listen to the street performers, who are incredible.  As we sat at one of the outdoor tables on the sidewalk waiting for our food at Gusto Ostia, we saw young Florentines chatting with each other while sitting on the steps of San Spirito church, munching on delicious pizza from the pizzeria a half block away.

As we enjoyed our own appetizers (salami, cheese, and bread), an accordion player and a violinist serenaded us with "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."  We looked at each other, astonished.  Was it that obvious we were from Kansas?  I imagine this was pure coincidence, but they sure had a good repetiore.

The meal lived up to the setting.  We dined on gnocchi in gorgonzola sauce and wild boar pasta.  Wild boar is a Florentine specialty, so we thought it was fitting.  It was definitely gamey, but eaten with the pasta that gaminess wasn't overbearing.

We set out that night to view a bit of the city before bedtime, and the experience was surreal.  You will hear in the coming week about some of the sights we saw that night when we describe them the coming day, but that night still gives me shivers.  We walked by the Palazzo Vecchio (town hall) where Michaelangelo's David guarded the entrance for a century plus.  A beautiful replica resides there now, silently proclaiming the power of this place.  He is not alone; to David's left is a statue of a Medici on his horse; to his right are some of the statues you still see in history books.

We headed on to the Duomo, illuminated by city lights to dazzling effect.  In front of the massive structure stood the baptistry with Ghiberti's bronze doors closing the inside from the outside world.  I could not believe that Ghiberti's doors were still being exposed to the elements like that (turns out they were copies, we saw the real ones the next day.)

In case you don't know, many historians consider 1402 as the exact year the Renaissance began, because that is the year Ghiberti won a competition to create the bronze doors going to the baptistry.  No one had ever seen anything like what Ghiberti pulled off since the fall of Rome.  On a bronze panel about 3/4 of an inch in depth, he created a three dimensional scene that stood in stark contrast to the flat images of previous periods.  His panels, depicting scenes from the Old Testament on one door and the life of Christ on the other, paved the way for what was to follow.  Oh yeah, among the artist Ghiberti beat for the honor of creating those doors was a fellow named Brunelleschi.  Disappointed with his defeat, Brunelleschi decided to take up architecture and wound up winning a bid to create the first dome anyone had completed since the Romans.  His grand dome rises about 100 yards away, a scene of incredible beauty.

One more scene from this first night: the Uffizi courtyard.  Uffizi means "offices," these were the official offices of the Medici banking enterprise.  Today, it is one of the world most famous art museums, but the courtyard contains some incredible art in its own right.  Here is the Renaissance "Hall of Fame," where likenesses of Dante, Galileo, da Vinci, Amerigo Vespucci, and so many others look down from their perches at passersby.  A violinist was performing the meditation from Thais, an opera by Massenet.  This has always been a favorite of mine, the meditation is supposed to represent the thoughts of a courtesan, pondering the love of Christ towards a sinner such as her.  I first heard this piece performed live at a funeral, celebrating the life of one who had pondered long the mystery Thais expresses here:

We'll get more into detail about Florence's sites next time.  Until then, Omnia Vincit Amour.

Bolzano

The next morning, we made it a point to get up early enough to be in line right breakfast was served.  Weather reports warned that rain would start later in the day, and if at all possible we wanted to avoid it.  Breakfast was, as always, a delight with fresh bread, meat, and yogurt; and we were headed down within almost a half hour of waking up.

Fog was very prominent all the way down; which cut what I'm sure were some incredible views, but it still had a wondrous effect, with the fog moving in and out of the mountain crags and the profound silence of it all.  We took the main road down rather than the trail to save time, and barring one extreme moment of uncertainty, we had no trouble following the signs down.  Being along a vehicle road, we saw more farmsteads and buildings, and it wasn't long before cowbells let us know that we were nearing pastureland.

We had this wonderland all to ourselves for perhaps two hours before we saw another living soul, and we loved every moment.  Soon, we had to watch out for vehicles and tractors along the little road; visibility was such we didn't trust that we'd be seen outside of a few yards.  We arrived in Compatsch in good time and were able to quickly get on a chairlift back down the mountain, which we had all to ourselves, and the bus back to Castlerotto was just ready to take off when we got back down. 

After picking up our bags back at the hotel room, we had got back on the bus and headed to Bolzano.  The way back was perhaps the most uncomfortable part of the trip, as this particular bus quickly filled to standing room.  We were very happy to get off and have some space to ourselves in our first fairly significant European city.

We hadn't originally planned to do much in Bolzano, but because we had hoofed it down the mountain, we found ourselves with about 3 hours free before the train was set to got to Florence, so we got to explore.

First we stopped by the ancient cathedral, begun in the 12th century and more or less finished with its prominent steeple in the 16th century.  Bolzano was heavily bombed during WWII and the cathedral, situated closely to the militarily significant train station, was heavily damaged.  Though the restoration effort has left the city looking remarkably healed, some of the frescoes inside the cathedral still show the effects of that terrible period.

This church was our first exposure to medieval art in situ, that is, in the space or setting they were intended for.  Seeing an altarpiece in a museum is a far different effect than seeing it inside the cathedral that the altarpiece was originally intended for, and here we saw eight hundred year old frescoes admonishing the faithful to reflect upon Christ's sacrifice, just like they had for eight hundred years before, instead of lining a museum as a historical artifact displaying the medieval Austrian style.  The effect and power of that experience is hard to describe, but it would drive Arthur to as many churches throughout the trip as Alex would put up with.

One other piece of note: the Bolzano Pieta.  We first saw a photo of this statue in a presentation by Rick Steves about European art as an example of pre-Renaissance sculpture.  We did not know that we would see it in this cathedral, and suddenly finding oneself face to face with a work of art covered in a lecture series was another thrill.

A pieta is any work of art portraying Mary's meditation over Christ's body.  This particular pieta is usually contrasted with Michelangelo's, whose marble figures are almost alive, in contrast to the rigid figures shown here, but that doesn't do this earlier work justice.  We'd see a few of these in Italy, and each are moving.  In a human since, it is a mother weeping over her fallen son; but it is also a fallen sinner recognizing that the reconciliation with herself and God is finished through history's greatest act of love.  Looking at the face of Mary and thinking about where the artist chooses to portray her countenance in light of that truth is deeply moving.

Anyway, enough of the church.  After wandering through the square we found ourselves on a street with buildings from the 1200s.  These buildings that were once small shops with barns at street level 8 centuries ago are now stylish boutiques.  While later on in our trip we would become more accustom to being in places that were even older, this was our first brush with how in Europe the buildings stay the same through the years but have different uses.  At this point we did get rained on but were able to duck inside to get some groceries (the cashier was not happy about breaking my 50 euro bill for 7 euros of groceries), and got our trip's first gelato, or Italian ice cream.  Gelato has less air and typically more flavoring, making it richer than other ice creams.  It is truly delicious, and we really enjoyed trying out new flavors on our trip.  This time, just to establish a baseline, we kept it simple with simply two chocolates.

I started this post with every intention of getting to Florence, but it's pretty obvious now that it's going to have to wait until next time.  On the train though we enjoyed looking at the Italian country side slide by while listening to podcasts about what we were about to see in Florence.  For now, dear reader, I'll leave you with us at the train station waiting to see the birthplace of the Renaissance.  Omnia Vincit Amor.

The Lonely Goatherd

Day 2 began with an excited Alex  exclaiming that we get to go play… in Italy.  Today’s activities   The day started out wonderfully with a great breakfast at our hotel followed by an ominous warning. You can not imagine the sinking feeling in her heart when the lady at the tourist office counseled us against hiking the mountains due to the fog and possible snow.  We had reserved a room for a refuge in the mountains for the night and so we asked the hotel receptionist to call up to the refuge to check on the weather and if the trail conditions would be safe.  With deep assurances from the refuge staff, we decided to embarked on the planned adventure. 
were some of the parts of the trip she was most looking forward to—hiking in the mountains of the Dolomites and experience the Alpine culture (since she got voted down on going to Switzerland this was the best Italian alternative).

We caught a bus that whisked us to a nearby town with a chairlift station at the base of the mountain.  This chairlift gave us gorgeous overhead views of cattle grazing, the pine forest, and the charming homes tucked on the side of the mountain.  In 15 minutes we were let off in the town of Compatch.  From there we began a glorious hike.  Everything was so beautiful Arthur might have gotten carried away with the camera.  Our journey led us through the largest high alpine meadow in Europe.  When Johanna Spyri was writing Heidi, this is the setting of the action. I highly recommend Youtubing "The Lonely Goatherd" and listening along while reading the rest of this; it'll help set the mood. 

Early on the profound silence of the area was broken only by the continual clanging of cow bells as the unconcerned bovines chewed lazily and watched the next set of tourist pass by.  These working farms coexist side by side with the budding tourism of the area in a simple symbiotic relationship; the farms provide the ambience that keep tourists coming, and in return these farms receive government subsidies for the value added to the community.  Soon the great Schlern came into view out of the clouds.  The Schlern, a great plateau with a sharp cut off high in these limestone mountains  certainly seems abrupt rising sharply out of the rolling meadow, but it is part of the charm of the area.  

I had seen the American Rockies before and ultimately that is what I expected from the Dolomites, but the contrast between the two was palpable in every way.  The Rockies are made primarily of granite that forms bolderous, well, rocky, faces.  The Dolomites by contrast are limestone and take a craggier form.  I wouldn't want to speak for the whole of the region, but hiking in high meadow like we were, the mountains were not forested at all, and that gave some pretty extraordinary views.  

It took us roughly three hours to reach the refuge, but we did not yet have our fill of adventure, so we dropped our night packs off and headed to the Schlern.  We were soon overtaken by some friendly vacationing Germans with whom we chatted and walked along.  They took some pictures for us and were just a delight to talk with, and when we had to turn back towards the refuge it was sad to leave them.

However, dinner was not eaten without company.  While most of the room was filled with Germans we were assigned to sit at the table with about the only other native English speakers.  We share a table (and a bunk room) with a couple from New Zealand and we again had a wonderful time comparing and contrasting our countries and cultures.  The meal was delicious; four courses of the most splendid Italian/German fare you'll ever see.  Arthur opted this time for the spinach dumplings (we needed to be able to compare and contrast similar founds with each other; this was a different style but still so good) to go with his salad, pesto alfredo, and cheesecake; Alex had barley soup, sausages, and apple strudel.  

Tired, well fed, and happy, we showered up, took some quick notes on the day, and headed up to bed; dreaming of the wondrous day and anticipating what yet stood before us.  Omnia Vincit Amour.