Florence is a town that has created an entire industry and identity on a brief, yet critical, period in history. In order to preserve its tourist appeal it has to maintain the look and feel of a medieval walled city while straining under the demands of the 21 st Century.
The overall effect is a little like Renaissance Disneyland.
Everywhere you look in this astounding city are stellar examples of pre-17 th century architecture with basic adornments that would be at home in most North American museums. A fresco here, a marble sconce there, another tableau of life-size marble saints – sensory overload is a risk even before crossing the threshold of a single museum.
Scooters, from the legendary Vespa to the retro Honda Jazz, zip through the narrow cobblestone streets spewing toxic exhaust from two-stroke engines. The environmental effect is like tens of thousands of lawnmowers being fired-up at once. Even those suffering from the mildest asthma should pack their inhalers before hitting the streets.
Quirky little two- and three-seat cars join in the traffic alongside some of the bravest and most casual bicycle commuters in the world. It takes nerves of steel to drink a cappuccino while wheeling through streets where road signs and traffic signals appear to be mere suggestions. Shockingly, there appear to be no real traffic problems. For six days in March, the Spousal Equivalent and I walked through the streets of Florence without witnessing a single traffic accident. Obviously, this town of 300,000 (approximately the size of Victoria) has a rhythm and flow that takes into account its numerous eccentricities, from bridges you can park on and pedestrian-only streets that appear without pattern to a street grid that defies definition. Who cares about roadways when your city holds an estimated 30 per cent of the world’s art treasures?
And really, art is the whole point of a trip to Florence. Renaissance art to be exact. If the Medici family had not ventured into banking in the 14 th century Florence might have just been another quaint riverside town. Banking was not a Church-approved vocation, so the famous clan was rather concerned about buying its way into Heaven and commissioned great works to glorify God. In just over 100 years, a Medici – Giovanni – won the Vatican’s top job, becoming Pope Leo X.
At one time or another just about all the biggies, including Donatello, Michelangelo and Raphael, were on the Medici payroll.
When the last Medici, Anna Maria, died in 1743, she bequeathed the family’s enormous art collection to the city on the condition that they never leave Florence. Today, those treasures are spread throughout the city’s numerous galleries and churches.
And the beauty of it is that you don’t have to be devout to appreciate the work. (For a couple of hours, in the Uffizi I kept muttering, "John the Baptist, was Jesus’s cousin? No way! I didn’t know that…’" ) Of course, if you’re going in thinking you’re going to see Picassos and Pollocks, you’re going to be immensely disappointed.
Housing such famous paintings as Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, Caravaggio’s Bacchus and Leonardo da Vinci’s Adoration of the Magi – as well as assorted Giottos, Michelangelos, Lippis, Rubens and Rembrandts – The Uffizi is the show when it comes to Renaissance painting. As indicated by my John the Baptist/Cousin comment, it’s also a great place to overhear some naïve insights. Visiting during college spring break, we were treated to one young American girl saying to another, (throat clearing sound) "This is a total waste of time." Her companion, who was busily text messaging, seemed to agree.
If big strapping naked guys are your thing – and even if they’re not – a trip to The Accademia, the gallery in the building which also houses Florence’s premier art school, is the place to go. At more than five metres, Michelangelo’s marble masterpiece, David, is as awe-inspiring as a sculpture of the human form gets. Originally intended to be upon a 10-metre column, the biblical giant-slayer’s upper body was created slightly larger than his lower body to allow for the distortion of viewing perspective. Of course, there are other sculptures and paintings in the gallery, but this is the one that makes the 15 Euro online reservation cost worth it.
A couple words about online reservations: Do it. It may seem a bit extravagant to pay almost double the usual entry fee, but during busy times, museums can be sold out for days or weeks in advance.
The Accademia and The Uffizi are must-sees, as are The Duomo and the cathedral at Santa Croce. The Duomo, Florence’s largest church, boasts a Baptistery in what was once a Pagan temple to Mars. The 12 th century cathedral is compelling due to the sheer size of the building, with its central cupola more than 40 metres in diameter. Every inch of this church is an opulent offering to God, making the humble, wooden United Churches of my youth appear almost insulting by comparison. What makes Santa Croce worth a tour, aside from the numerous Donatellos and Bartolinis, are the crypts that line the cathedral’s walls. Buried inside this church are the remains of Michelangelo, Gallileo, Dante and Machiavelli. Now that would be a helluva church picnic! As an added treat, the courtyard hosts one of the few modern sculptures that are publicly displayed, a modest bronze by Britain’s Henry Moore.
We rounded our official art tour with a trip to The Bargello. One of the city’s oldest buildings, it was first a palace, then home to the police chief and finally a public prison, before being turned into gallery in the 1860s. With the exception of a few paintings, a house wares gallery and a room devoted to weapons and armour, the 19-room gallery is all about sculpture. Michelangelos, Donatellos and Verrochios share space with rotating exhibits. When we were there it was Giambalogna whose passion was bronzes, his most noted work being a perfectly balanced life-size statue of Mercury on point.
With all my experience of eating in Whistler, I should have considered what food in a tourist town would be like. And indeed, food in Florence went from awful to awesome; the closer to a tourist trap, the more likelihood of it being awful. The best place we found to eat – and dined there three of our six nights – was a 30-seat, Slow Food establishment called Ostaria Dei Cento Poveri. From a tuna tartare to the steak Florentine – a barely cooked 1-kg T-bone steak sliced in 1-inch strips – the food was consistently excellent.
We stayed within a block-and-a-half of the Arno River at the Antica Torre di Via Tornabuoni No 1. Occupying the upper three floors of a 13 th century tower, the 12-room hotel featured well-appointed, spacious rooms and spectacular city views, particularly from the panoramic rooftop balcony. It also offered some of the consistently best cappuccinos I’ve had.
And while good food and lodging certainly added to the trip, the real attraction here is the art, and it’s everywhere.
