We all slept well that night and awoke early to travel north towards the renaissance city of Florence in the hills of Tuscany. After a few hours on the bus we arrived and had a full day to explore. We began with a group photo in front of the Franciscan style Santa Croce church. This picturesque basilica is also known as The Pantheon of the Italian Glories as luminaries such as Michelangelo, Machiavelli and Galileo are buried there.
Afterwards we walked to nearby Piazza della Signoria for a guided tour of the city sights. The square is considered the political centre of Florence and the old palace, or Palazzo Vecchio, stands within it. There is also a kind of open air exhibition of famous sculpture beneath the open arches of the Loggia dei Lanzi building on the edge of the Plaza. An exact copy of Michelangelo’s David stands outside the palace, the original being housed in the Academia museum nearby.
The five metre tall figure is a departure from previous sculptures of biblical David in that it’s said to depict him prior to his battle with Goliath. Remarkably Michelangelo didn’t use a model when carving David, working on the premise that David’s image existed in the slab of stone and that as an artist it was his job to reveal him. His fantastic knowledge of anatomy helped him sculpt the figure in such detail that you can see the veins bulge in his neck and the tense muscles of his hands.
Our affable local guide explained that David’s hands were disproportionately large to emphasise not only his strength, but the power of the newly formed Republic of Florence which also faced a struggle to survive against formidable odds. One of the girls in our tour giggled that another of his body parts seemed a bit smaller than it should be. Our guide replied that like him Michelangelo was a proud Florentine man who wouldn’t want to be overshadowed. While local women admire the athletic physique of the statue the men can walk past thinking ‘well, mine’s bigger than his!’
From Della Signoria it’s a ten minute walk to Florence Cathedral, the exquisite Santa Maria del Fiore. This huge domed building is these days only the fourth largest Cathedral in the world, having been the largest when completed in 1436. The main structure was originally designed by di Cambio in 1296 but Brunelleschi’s ingenious dome is also widely admired. Weighing an estimated 37,000 tons it stands 108 metres tall and provides a great view over the city for those brave enough to climb to the top.
Of course it was a chance too good to pass up so my friends and I paid a nominal fee and began our ascent up the 466 winding stone steps. It was dark and narrow, with no room to stand and a few of the girls started getting anxious after a few minutes scaling the claustrophobic staircase. To make matters worse lines of people coming down limited the space further and at times we had to flatten against the wall to allow them through. I felt sorry for the girls and it’s certainly no place for those with a fear of combined spaces.
I think we were all relieved when we reached the viewing platform that circles the interior of the dome, even if it was little more than one metre wide. From here you could see a detailed ceiling mosaic of scenes from the last judgement. As I was gazing at the almost cartoon-like characterisations of heaven, earth and hell I sneaked a look over the safety rail and down to the people walking through the cathedral far below. I soon wished I could join them as the building seemed to shake and I immediately shuffled back against the wall. I don’t enjoy heights but had never experienced a physical reaction to them before. My heart was pounding and all I could think was that I was trapped up there.
After telling myself to stop being irrational I was able to take my mind off it and stay focused on the ceiling. In hindsight I don’t think the images of grinning devils and reapers helped all that much but there was no way I was going back down. With my internal struggle largely unnoticed we walked around to the final staircase that led to the top viewing platform.
The last twenty metres were almost a vertical climb to the fresh air and breathtaking views of Florence that awaited us. Interestingly, although we were higher, being outside with some room to move seemed to make all the difference and I was able to enjoy the sights and take lots of pictures of the city. Posing in photos right on the edge was still a challenge, but at least I wasn’t the only one!
A short time later we came down and feeling thankful to be on the ground again, we stopped nearby for a coffee. After a little while chatting someone pointed out it was time to go. We had about thirty minutes to get back to our meeting point at Santa Croce church and the 5pm bus ride to our hotel somewhere on the outskirts of the city. Scandy had been very strict on people who were late during the trip and several people had already been left behind at hotels after missing the morning bus. With that said, we still had plenty of time as we were only fifteen minutes walk from the Plaza… or so we thought.
Ten minutes passed walking along the cobbled streets before we began to think that things didn’t look very familiar and approached some locals for directions. Somehow we had walked in the wrong direction and ended up on the other side of the city. What followed was nearly half an hour running through Florence in layers of winter clothing as the light began to fade. From town square to town square we ran, each one looking similar to the last and each looking teasingly like Piazza Santa Croce only for us to discover it wasn’t. It was like being in a beautifully sculpted maze!
By 5:05pm our jogging had become sprinting and it was obvious we were going to miss our bus and be stranded in Florence without even the name of our hotel. We finally arrived, panting at Santa Croce at 5:09 but there was no sign of our other companions. Disappointed, my friend Jon and I decided to make one last push and bolted to the waterfront in the direction our bus had been parked. We rounded the corner like a couple of 400m runners as the bus came into view. Dodging locals and tourists alike we could see the brake lights were on and the bus was about to pull out. Breathless, we managed to reach the bus and stall an unforgiving Scandy long enough for us all to clamber aboard, drenched in sweat but triumphant and relieved.
Afterwards we walked to nearby Piazza della Signoria for a guided tour of the city sights. The square is considered the political centre of Florence and the old palace, or Palazzo Vecchio, stands within it. There is also a kind of open air exhibition of famous sculpture beneath the open arches of the Loggia dei Lanzi building on the edge of the Plaza. An exact copy of Michelangelo’s David stands outside the palace, the original being housed in the Academia museum nearby.
The five metre tall figure is a departure from previous sculptures of biblical David in that it’s said to depict him prior to his battle with Goliath. Remarkably Michelangelo didn’t use a model when carving David, working on the premise that David’s image existed in the slab of stone and that as an artist it was his job to reveal him. His fantastic knowledge of anatomy helped him sculpt the figure in such detail that you can see the veins bulge in his neck and the tense muscles of his hands.
Our affable local guide explained that David’s hands were disproportionately large to emphasise not only his strength, but the power of the newly formed Republic of Florence which also faced a struggle to survive against formidable odds. One of the girls in our tour giggled that another of his body parts seemed a bit smaller than it should be. Our guide replied that like him Michelangelo was a proud Florentine man who wouldn’t want to be overshadowed. While local women admire the athletic physique of the statue the men can walk past thinking ‘well, mine’s bigger than his!’
From Della Signoria it’s a ten minute walk to Florence Cathedral, the exquisite Santa Maria del Fiore. This huge domed building is these days only the fourth largest Cathedral in the world, having been the largest when completed in 1436. The main structure was originally designed by di Cambio in 1296 but Brunelleschi’s ingenious dome is also widely admired. Weighing an estimated 37,000 tons it stands 108 metres tall and provides a great view over the city for those brave enough to climb to the top.
Of course it was a chance too good to pass up so my friends and I paid a nominal fee and began our ascent up the 466 winding stone steps. It was dark and narrow, with no room to stand and a few of the girls started getting anxious after a few minutes scaling the claustrophobic staircase. To make matters worse lines of people coming down limited the space further and at times we had to flatten against the wall to allow them through. I felt sorry for the girls and it’s certainly no place for those with a fear of combined spaces.
I think we were all relieved when we reached the viewing platform that circles the interior of the dome, even if it was little more than one metre wide. From here you could see a detailed ceiling mosaic of scenes from the last judgement. As I was gazing at the almost cartoon-like characterisations of heaven, earth and hell I sneaked a look over the safety rail and down to the people walking through the cathedral far below. I soon wished I could join them as the building seemed to shake and I immediately shuffled back against the wall. I don’t enjoy heights but had never experienced a physical reaction to them before. My heart was pounding and all I could think was that I was trapped up there.
After telling myself to stop being irrational I was able to take my mind off it and stay focused on the ceiling. In hindsight I don’t think the images of grinning devils and reapers helped all that much but there was no way I was going back down. With my internal struggle largely unnoticed we walked around to the final staircase that led to the top viewing platform.
The last twenty metres were almost a vertical climb to the fresh air and breathtaking views of Florence that awaited us. Interestingly, although we were higher, being outside with some room to move seemed to make all the difference and I was able to enjoy the sights and take lots of pictures of the city. Posing in photos right on the edge was still a challenge, but at least I wasn’t the only one!
A short time later we came down and feeling thankful to be on the ground again, we stopped nearby for a coffee. After a little while chatting someone pointed out it was time to go. We had about thirty minutes to get back to our meeting point at Santa Croce church and the 5pm bus ride to our hotel somewhere on the outskirts of the city. Scandy had been very strict on people who were late during the trip and several people had already been left behind at hotels after missing the morning bus. With that said, we still had plenty of time as we were only fifteen minutes walk from the Plaza… or so we thought.
Ten minutes passed walking along the cobbled streets before we began to think that things didn’t look very familiar and approached some locals for directions. Somehow we had walked in the wrong direction and ended up on the other side of the city. What followed was nearly half an hour running through Florence in layers of winter clothing as the light began to fade. From town square to town square we ran, each one looking similar to the last and each looking teasingly like Piazza Santa Croce only for us to discover it wasn’t. It was like being in a beautifully sculpted maze!
By 5:05pm our jogging had become sprinting and it was obvious we were going to miss our bus and be stranded in Florence without even the name of our hotel. We finally arrived, panting at Santa Croce at 5:09 but there was no sign of our other companions. Disappointed, my friend Jon and I decided to make one last push and bolted to the waterfront in the direction our bus had been parked. We rounded the corner like a couple of 400m runners as the bus came into view. Dodging locals and tourists alike we could see the brake lights were on and the bus was about to pull out. Breathless, we managed to reach the bus and stall an unforgiving Scandy long enough for us all to clamber aboard, drenched in sweat but triumphant and relieved.
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