Sunday, September 1st | 2024 | Day 4
After breakfast at Il Ghiottone, I met up with my classmates before taking the tram to Stazione Unità. It was a bright sunny day and I needed a hat. Disregarding Nadia’s advice, I bought a cheap made in China fedora from one of the many stalls you’ll find throughout the city, hawking everything from rugs and coats to plastic souvenirs.
Walking to Piazza Santa Maria Novella, we decided to check out the Profumo Farmaceutica. Founded in 1221 by the same Dominican order that established the basilica, it is one of the earliest and arguably the longest standing examples of medieval medicine. Within the apothecary, properties of every variety of botanicals were studied for their utility, whether that meant alleviating everyday ailments, or unscrupulously poisoning political rivals. With baths in short supply it was important to smell good, even in medieval times. It may have been less to do with announcing one’s pheromonal presence half a block away and more about keeping the stench of fetid streets at bay.
One of the things that struck me most about Florence was how ornately carved, sculpted, and decorated everything was. Any interior wall or ceiling left bare would have stuck out as an opportunity missed for vivid paint or fresco to bring to life scenes of mythology, Renaissance glory, or the story of Jesus. The Profumo was largely an homage to Nature with cherubs looking down at visitors from heavenly cloud perches. On the walls were twisting vines of myriad herbs and flowers used to produce the perfumes, lotions, and essential oils still available today.
At least an hour had passed and it was about time for lunch. We wandered to Piazza della Repubblica where indoor and outdoor seating beckoned from a handful of restaurants lining the square. We decided on Paskowski and sat outside. The covered patio with fans in all directions made the heat tolerable. Not at its peak just yet, the high was 100ºF that day. What better than a Campari spritz to help cool off? Plates of small bites and appetizers began appearing. After the third one nobody ordered, Bill asked the host who assured us they were complimentary. For lunch I had a fantastic half club sandwich which was nothing like what I expected!
After lunch, I set off from the group to wander and take some photos. First to Piazza della Signoria, then the Duomo. At around two, the sun was starting to highlight some of its features but wasn’t great, so I decided to make my way towards the tram. I live in the desert and am used to temperatures well into the triple digits. Even after thirty years, I wouldn’t exactly say I enjoy being out in the sun when it’s that hot, but combined with the humidity, 100 degrees was getting to me.
Walking from the Duomo along Via de’ Cerretani, I made two important stops.
The first was at one of the leather stores I had scoped out the day before—Il Principe. Entering the shop, they had a wide selection of sizes and colors. I spoke with the woman in Italian as best I could, who was helpful and friendly. Another man stepped out from the back, asked what I was looking for, which led to a really nice conversation.
I wanted a day bag large enough for my camera, phone, a small notebook, and other essential items. I was also looking for genuine Florentine leather made by local artisans. He kindly explained that processing and tanning had long been moved outside of Florence to a town between here and Pisa. Once the hides had been prepared, they were brought to Florence, and all items in the shop had been created by local craftspeople.
Finding a perfect bag with sturdy clasps and several zippered pockets at a very reasonable price, I was ready to check out. Introducing himself, Mauro asked where I was from. “Ah, Arizona. I’ve been there, beautiful country.” He had recently taken a trip with his family to the Grand Canyon. Small world after all. He introduced his sister and brother in law, then handed me his card. Grazie mille signore. A presto!
Family lore is that my grandfather, a veteran of WWII, left the church after being advised to discipline his children with physical punishment. It stands to reason that after witnessing untold violence overseas, this was the last thing he wanted to bring home. And so, I wasn’t raised Catholic.
Next door to the leather shop, Santa Maria Maggiore is one of the oldest churches in Florence, dating back to the 8th century. The interior was somewhat small, yet exquisite in both its decoration and simplicity. Ancient places fascinate me and I tried to imagine how many generations had come here to worship.
Being simultaneously drawn to religious spaces while feeling awkward not quite knowing the protocol always feels like a conundrum. I dropped a few euros into the donation slot and after taking some pictures, put my things away to pray.
Lighting a candle, I knelt on the prayer bench in front of one of the chapels and struggled to find a position that was anything close to comfortable. There were only a few others in the room, but surely they must have clearly seen this fish out of water. My prayers focused on someone close to me, who I love dearly, but also brought a great deal of uncertainty. I asked God to send her his unconditional love and to ease her suffering. A few more moments were spent in quiet contemplation on one of the pews before leaving.
I arrived back at the apartment, to rest and journal for a few hours before joining the group for dinner. Traveling the same route as the night before, this time our destination was Fuoco Matto. The day having been at leisure, everyone was excited to recount their individual adventures. Once wine had been selected, the first course was several varieties of salad, passed around along with antipasto. Next up, pizza! Four delicious wood-fired pies with thin, crispy crust were shared family style.
As she walked back and forth across the restaurant, the beautiful hostess and I continued exchanging glances. Trying to summon enough of both the language and courage to ask her to join me for passeggiata some other day, I decided it wouldn’t be appropriate. I wasn’t going to be there long and didn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable. Our eyes met one last time outside the restaurant where she was clearing a table, and we exchanged thank yous and goodnights.
We were passing through Piazza dell’Indipendenza and Jim asked me “why Florence?” Being my first time abroad, what made me choose this place? “Everything we have today is because of everything that happened here.” “Good answer,” he said. It wasn’t something I had really thought about,it just came to me in the moment. I’ve always been drawn to Florence, but realized how profoundly true this statement was. The shift from religious superstition to the scientific method, art that still evokes wonder, the birth of modern finance, medicine, and understanding the human body. The idea that every life is worthy of dignity and basic human rights.
Rounding a corner across from the tram stop, this guy came out of nowhere, running through some low shrubs. Followed a few seconds later by a woman saying “aiutami–he stole my phone.” Without hesitation, I started running after him, but after he turned the corner I started to consider what I might be getting myself into. I stood at the top of the street and watched as they continued down the hill. Her shouts failed to elicit action from others watching the scene unfold. While I felt sorry for her, there was no way I was going to catch up. It happened so quickly and impressions among the group were mixed. Some clearly saw the scene as a robbery. Others thought it might have been a lovers quarrel, or at least that they knew each other.
Whatever the case might have been, I was glad the ride home was uneventful—a calm end to a day that had offered everything from history and beauty to adrenaline.
