Today was fantastic! First, my dad and I traveled to the top of the Duomo (a cathedral in Florence famous for its gargantuan renaissance dome). I gazed out across the vast city where the streets were veins and arteries carrying cars and trucks and people, then up to the hillside where I saw sprawling villas with vineyards cozily tucked into the rocky facade. Looking at the buildings, I noticed the verandas that were like little oases high above the chaos of the streets. I noticed an outdoor market just a few streets from the Duomo, so we bid farewell to the breathtaking views and plunged into the dusky gloom of the cathedral.
Now I've got to hand it to Renaissance painters. They really knew how to decorate the inside of a cathedral dome, and the Duomo is no exception. The mural depicts man's existence on earth as well as life in heaven and in hell. The hierarchy went something like this: Satan and his minions were on the bottom level (closest to the ground), then came humans and their miserable life on Earth, then the guardian angels, the saints, and finally Jesus and God. Being a stone-cold atheist, even I was taken back by its beauty. I stopped to think, "Wait. Maybe?" but quickly shrugged off the thought with a, "Naaaahh", which echoed throughout the entire cathedral.
After emerging from the eerie dimness of the Duomo, my dad and I began wandering the streets looking for the outdoor market. We found it crammed into an alley between two traffic heavy streets. Having nothing better to do, we idly stared at the souvenirs, which seemed so similar to the knickknacks found at the Saturday Market in Portland. When we passed by the vendors, they would rush up to us with fine leather and shout, "Almost free! Almost free!" However, since this was the only English they spoke, it proved difficult to barter with them. We became bored of this frequent bombardment and left to find more exciting things.
We stopped at a small restaurant for a lunch of wine and prosciutto salad, which is toasted bread topped with tomatoes, mozzarella and herbs drizzled with olive oil and vinaigrette (a favorite of mine). We sat there talking about this and that, slowly getting drunk and feeling very European when I had an idea for a story.
It's about a workaholic father and his twenty-something year-old son, who take a trip to Italy, (sound familiar?). The father is a practicing lawyer and is recently divorced. The divorce from his wife has made him realize he's missed much of his sons life and wants to make up for lost time. While in Italy they meet a mother and her twenty-something year-old daughter who are traveling in Italy as a celebration for her daughters graduation from law school. The mother is also recently divorced, so her and the father have an instant connection. The son and daughter find each other attractive, so they hit it off as well. Everything is fine for a while, the father courts the mother, the son makes passes at the daughter, until things start to intertwine. Turns out the mother is a cougar who finds the son to be irresistible. And the daughter has a thing for successful older men (aka the father). It'd make for a wonderful Woody Allen film about love and loss and love again in the romantic cities of Italy, all it needs is a juicy ending.
All too soon it was time to leave our quaint Italian restaurant, and make our way to the Academia to see the David! We entered the Academia happy to be out of the scorching heat of the afternoon. First we saw the Evangelist artwork with its depictions of chastity and paintings of the Virgin Mary. Then we walked through the museum of classical instruments where we saw a few harpsichords along with the first flutes, clarinets, trombones and six string guitars. After that we stared at the collection of Michelangelo's Prisoners. Then finally we saw Him. The David. The head honcho. The cue de gras of anatomically correct statues. He stood in his heroic poise, gazing out to some distant point, as we marveled at his massive brilliance. To think Michelangelo carved this out of stone freehand is mind-blowing! Moving on from one genius to the next we found a room filled with Botticelli's sculptures. The one that caught my eye was his chiseling of Zeus's head. Rumor has it that Goethe liked the statue so much, he bought a casting and placed it at the foot of his bed. He says it inspired him to write, and if it wasn't for Botticelli he may never have become the man we know him as.
After Academia it was time to head to Cortona. So we packed the car and made a high-speed burn down the A1 stopping only for the tollbooths.
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