The Uffizi. We queued up for less than 15 minutes, mainly because we were up and hobbling the cobblestones shortly after 8 am. And, other than one 20 minute wait to witness a particularly poignant hall, we covered the floors at a sedate and contemplative pace. Genius was framed by marble, stone and onyx. After witnessing the first hundred or so Roman statues I commented (as only a sister can do to her brother) that it seems that the Renaissance males were not particularly well endowed. I was then informed that apparently (so the story goes), it was a sign of aristocracy “not” to be. So. Ahem. Good story.
The Uffizi is beautifully organized, and between floors an open air cafeteria welcomes you. We had a brief pause for a brioche and coffee before tackling the final floor. To me, it quickly became overwhelming to try and absorb all the ornate riches on display. Horrific, graphic paintings of the crucifixion were everywhere, as were countless portraits of the Madonna and Christ child. But this one, more than any in the gallery, struck me silent: Our Lady of Sorrows. If you enlarge the picture by quite a bit, you can see the mastery of Anonimo Pittore Florentino, who finished this piece in 1500. Her tears glisten under eyes downcast in grief and sorrow. I was struck by the beauty of the folds in her headpiece and the master’s touch with light and shadow.
We hit the saturation point after a few hours and elected to wander the cobblestones to Santa Croce, one of the best-loved sites for its immense artistic heritage and value of its monuments. There we sat in silence on a quiet pew and felt the grandeur before standing before the grave of Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli and at Vasari’s Last Supper, completed in 1547. How they had the paints and expertise to create such beauty is a miracle. We wandered through the cloisters to end the visit and finally wound our way back to our funny little apartment, getting caught briefly in a shower and ducking into the bar beneath our place to have a beer and wait out the cloudburst. Off to the Coop where we picked up fagioli, caponata, focaccia and canneloni, to be savoured on our little patio overlooking bits and pieces of Firenze. We are tired, bone weary, and greatly anticipating a quick train trip to Siena tomorrow and from there, to Tuscany in our little rental car. Although I am looking forward to being in the country where I can stride out with my eyes on the vista instead of the cobblestones, Firenze has filled me with rich memories without measure.
The ceiling of the museum. Just look up. Try not to faint.
Accomplishments to date: Found optometrist to fix glasses I inadvertently fell asleep on and bent all to hell. Booked Brindisi on the Adriatic side for 4 days, so that we may fly directly into Rome October 6. Became adept at ins/outs of WC’s, although I still have not found a single attendant to return my smile. Can now say grazie mille with the distracted demeanour of a very busy Italian woman, although I just might be kidding myself on that one.
Tomorrow: Taxi/train/car, and a new home for the next week.
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