Saturday, September 7th | 2024 | Day 10
Members of the tour group began filtering into the lobby of PopArtment around seven-thirty for house coffee ahead of departure at eight. We loaded onto the Eurovan for an hour and a half drive to Cortona. The drive allowed for casual conversation amongst relative strangers to share stories, tell jokes, and relay some of our discoveries in Florence during days at leisure. These drives were welcome and enjoyable opportunities to get to know one another a bit more.
Winding up the narrow roads and switchbacks towards our destination, Nadia pointed out visible differences in the walls surrounding the town. Large roughly cut stones on the lower strata date back to the Etruscans, while the darker and more finely hewn layer is medieval. Similar to the Minoans, while much has been discovered about this ancient civilization, there is far more shrouded in mystery that remains to be revealed.
The very name of the region can be traced back to the Etruscans—from Tuscia in Latin, meaning “belonging to the Trusci,” to Toscana in Italian, and eventually Tuscany in English. As well-known neighbors of the early Romans, there is plenty of evidence to suggest the ingenuity and culture of these ancient people had a profound impact. Many cultural characteristics we think of as being quintessentially Roman—arches and vaults, engineered roads, gladiatorial combat, right down to the toga—were likely adopted from the Etruscans.
The van parked just outside the Basilica di Santa Margherita at the far east end of Cortona. After I took a few shots of the sweeping views to Val di Chiana below, our guide arrived to get the official tour underway. Sebastian was quite knowledgeable and hilarious, keeping the group entertained by cracking jokes and pointing out idiosyncrasies of culture and religion.
Once inside, the thirteenth-century church revealed an interior far more ornate than its modest exterior suggested. While the tour didn’t linger long, several objects stood out. A figure of Jesus resurrected, with wounds from the crucifixion, looked down at the viewer, his eyes brimming with compassion and a hint of sadness. Not for his own fate, but for those who turn away from each other and his message of everlasting love. St. Francis, who was the first to have received stigmata, also bore the wounds of Jesus while staring in deep contemplation at the crucifix held in his hand.
In one of the niches, a statue of Santa Margherita with her hands outstretched and gaze turned towards heaven, was wonderfully expressive. After being damaged during a siege by Arezzo in 1258, Margherita was instrumental in rebuilding the oratory dedicated to San Basilico that originally stood here. She dedicated her life to prayer and eventually joined the Third Order of Saint Francis. In service to the poor, homeless, and sick, she built a hospital and established Le poverelle—Franciscan sisters committed to helping those in need.
Margherita passed from the world in 1297, before the oratory was expanded into the current basilica dedicated in her honor. Beneath the high altar, her remains lay at peace, entombed in a silver casket.
A few minutes after reboarding the van, we were dropped off near Porta Sant’ Agostino. One of the remaining ancient gates, it was fascinating to imagine the processions of citizens, merchants, revelers, and soldiers passing through them over the ages. With no vehicular traffic as we proceeded towards the main square, the streets felt rather serene, with a calm, quiet charm. People moved about their daily lives. Sun dried laundry hung from clotheslines and balconies. Cortona was one of the places Eleanora mentioned as being truly Italian—I was beginning to understand why.
Gathering onto Piazza Centro, Sebastian told us a bit about the town’s history before leading us onward to the Museo dell’ Accademia Etrusca.
Absolutely worth a visit, the museum wasn’t exactly small but won’t eat up an entire afternoon either. It was in the Goldilocks zone—not huge and overwhelming, not so small one wonders why they came—but just right.
From the ticketing counter a ramp led to cases displaying early artifacts—flint arrowheads, stone and copper axes, as well as a sword—that dated back to the Neolithic and Bronze Ages. If you think chopping down a tree with hardened steel hand tools is a challenge, try felling one with a rock.
Fired clay in orange and black. A copper pot separated from its handle, both with characteristic green patina after centuries of oxidation. Artifacts that offered a glimpse into the progression of humanity through the slow march of time.
I marveled at the next case full of jewelry. Designs so intricate it was hard to fathom the level of skill it took to create given the tools available at the time. A string of stamped gold and smooth glass beads separated by rings of golden balls less than two millimeters in diameter was absolutely captivating.
On another strand, the gold beads were fluted and tubular. Hanging from each tube, semi-precious stones were set with delicate golden fingers lovingly wrapped around them. Surely finery this exquisite adorned a person of high social standing. Can you imagine the moment a king surprised his queen with such a gift and placed it gracefully around her neck?
The collection of black and red figure pottery was especially interesting. Black figure originated in Corinth around 700 BCE, with red figure following some 200 years later in Athens. Being found in Etruria would suggest extensive trade with the Greeks, learning and adopting their techniques, or perhaps both. Unique to the Etruscans, bucchero is thin-walled pottery with a glossy black finish. Despite being monochromatic, many were stamped with geometric and vegetal designs which I found quite elegant in their relatively chromatic simplicity.
Vessels of each style came in a variety of shapes and sizes. It was fascinating to picture them filled with goods, stowed as cargo, then transported between ancient ports before being unloaded to the marketplace. To imagine the scenes in which they were used to serve food, olive oil, and wine in the households of nobility and everyday people alike.
After some free time to explore and shop on our own, we met at Piazza Garibaldi for lunch. Ristorante Tonino was nothing less than incredible. We sat on the patio with sweeping views of the town above, Val di Chiana below, and Lago Trasimeno in the distance.
Our meal was a seemingly endless procession of delicious, where tradition met the unexpected. Starting with antipasti Tonino and bruschettine della tradizione, the paccheri con crema di pistacchi for primo and pannacotta for dolce stood out like exclamation points. Part of what made this so special was that we were the only ones in the restaurant. Through a personal connection, Nadia had arranged for us to be there at a time they were usually closed between lunch and dinner. Grazie mille a tutti!
After such a wonderful meal, the ride back to Florence was fairly quiet. Most sat silently with their thoughts and gazed out the windows as the Tuscan landscape hurtled by.
Back at the ranch, Deb, Chris, and I planned to meet up for dinner after a few hours to rest and freshen up.
The scene at Il Ghiotonne was lively and we were lucky to get a table outside as another group left. After lunch at Tonino, we weren’t super hungry and talked about ordering drinks. Chris wasn’t familiar with the go-to Aperol spritz, but after Deb and I described it, she decided to try one. From the first sip to the third round, the best spritz I had in Florence—il migliore—was at this family run caffè on Piazza San Jacopino. If I had to guess, the secret ingredient was a splash of orange liqueur.
Over light fare, our conversation was as vibrant as our surroundings. At the heart of a community on Saturday night, we talked about family, careers, politics, and what it meant for each of us to be in Florence. The lively discussion was such a pleasure and I enjoyed getting to know Chris and Deb a bit more. Even as a stranger in a strange land, moments like these made it feel like a place where I belonged.
