Monday, September 16th | 2024 | Day 19
I woke up early and met Deb in the lobby of PopArtment for our next to last language lesson at nine. Giusy asked if I had grown up hearing Italian spoken. Unfortunately, the fluency brought by my great-grandparents to the US hadn’t been passed down. Though by asking, I took it as a very nice compliment to how well I was picking up pronunciation.
Our field trip for the day was Scuola del Cuoio, a school founded in 1950 for students to learn traditional leatherworking—a highly skilled craft that Florence has been well regarded for throughout many centuries.
Turning the corner onto Piazza Santa Croce, thick plumes of black and gray smoke billowed from a third story restaurant directly across the street from the basilica. With smoke clouding our way and emergency crews beginning to converge on the scene, it looked as though our excursion might have to wait. Giusy looked at us, saw that we were brave, and led us past the scene unscathed.
We stepped through a portal that opened onto a pathway on the back side of Santa Croce. Through the courtyard and up a flight of stairs, the school offered a wide array of lovely, handmade products. Dedication and workmanship was apparent from bookmarks and notebooks stamped with gold foil, to handbags and coats that would rival top Italian brands in both style and quality.
I didn’t find much under 50€ and while absolutely worth it, by this point my budget for extras was close to maxed out. So I opted for a couple bookmarks to bring home for my boys. Deb found a beautiful full length, black trench coat that fit her perfectly.
Once class was over, I headed towards Palazzo Vecchio in anticipation of redeeming the special reward made possible by the kindness of Eleanora and the docent at Porta San Nicolò.
I wandered for a bit to find a spot for lunch, and happened upon Pizzeria al Taglio Ganza which offered perfectly sized personal pies. Topped with traditional ingredients and a savory blend of herbs and spices, each one is made with love. On a thin, crispy crust, the pepperoni (aka salami) was so good, I had to try the gorgonzola and mushroom. Both were delicious!
Palazzo Vecchio was only a few blocks away and I had plenty of time before the next tour started. The guide first took us out of the south entrance and into the street to show us a small exterior door. It didn’t seem to be much of an inconspicuous escape route, but she explained the existing street was, at the time, much narrower and used for trash.
Directly above, there was a section of the walkway built by Giorgio Vasari that allowed the Medici to pass between the Signoria and Palazzo Pitti without setting foot on the street. It was closed for renovation when I was there—another place among many to see on the next trip.
Returning through the entrance we came out of, our docent opened a door that led into a narrow room. At one end stood a reproduction of the bright red coat and hat worn by members of the Signoria. Another door on the opposite side of the room led to a spiral staircase that brought us up to a landing with two more doors. One of those doors led to private Medici chambers, while the other opened to a descending spiral staircase. It was not the same one we had just ascended and this was starting to feel like one of the fantastical interiors imagined by M.C. Escher.
The room at the bottom of those stairs was marvelous. Like the rest of Palazzo Vecchio, it was adorned with frescoes, paintings, ornately carved and gilded trim from the corbels of the barrel-vaulted ceiling to the opulent marble floor. Bronze statues of nymphs, muses, Hephaestus, and David—the biblical hero adopted by Florence—were held in niches at each of the four corners.
We were standing in Francesco de’ Medici’s chamber of secrets. Panels that appeared to be fixed revealed cubbies that once stored instruments and devices used in the practice of alchemy. For however progressive the age of Renaissance was, the freedoms of scientific thought and inquiry we take for granted today were nascent. Therefore, it remained necessary to keep such hobbies well hidden from the church. Alchemy was viewed akin to witchcraft and discovery of a practitioner meddling in these dark arts, whether outed by a nosy neighbor or His Holiness himself, often ended with dire consequences.
A brief stop on the balcony overlooking the Salone dei Cinquecento continued up another flight of stairs to what our docent called a true architectural masterpiece. Massive beams stretched the length of the roofline but were not supporting its timber and brick. Perhaps later additions, various iron ties looked as though they were specifically designed to bolster rigidity at the particular spot they were installed. With expansion of the palazzo by Grand Duke Cosimo I, this enormous structure was built to hold up the forty-two panels of masterworks that comprise the ceiling of the Hall of the Five Hundred below.
The tour ended atop a beautiful staircase that I hadn’t seen during previous visits and our docent finished by highlighting a huge, yet damaged brass bell that helped ring in Italian unification. It reminded me of the Liberty Bell and earlier years spent in and around Philadelphia, fascinated with the American Revolution and the founders of its Republic. The principles of Truth, Equality, and Brotherhood that rang in that bell echo back to the Florentine Renaissance.
It had been a busy day and I was ready for some down time. Sadly, it was no longer possible to keep putting off the most undesirable chore of packing to return home before meeting up for the “last supper” of the tour. Filling my carry-on didn’t take long and since I had traveled so light on the way over, an outcome I suspected all along became inevitable. Buying a second suitcase ended up being much more economical than it would have been to ship the overflow.
Everyone met in the lobby at seven and headed out for our farewell dinner. As any trip or vacation begins with a series of firsts, it also draws to a close in a series of lasts. This entire adventure had been incredible and made even better by sharing it with a wonderful group of travelers. Of course those feelings of joy and gratitude were mixed with a tinge of bittersweet that it was almost over.
As you might expect, Nadia sent us off in regal fashion with a fabulous farewell on the rooftop of Hotel Baglioni. A light breeze and the moon rising over Giotto’s campanile made for a lovely evening. By this point, I was pretty sure I had seen the Duomo from every possible angle! The meal kicked off with a prosecco toast as we took turns around the table to lavish praise upon our exceptional director, recall favorite experiences, and say a few closing words about what it had meant to be there.
Though it was a bit sad that the trip was coming to a close, every moment had been so worthwhile—and I knew the memories, like the city itself, would stay with me long after returning to Tucson.
