Florence is a much more manageable city. It's much smaller than Rome and the main things of tourist interest are in a much more compact area. I think we are wise to spend two nights here, though.
We got to town just after 6 p.m. yesterday. By the time we took care of personal needs, bought biglietti (tickets) for the bus, nearly got on a bus going the wrong direction, found the right bus, got off 3 stops later, asked for directions twice, walked at least 6 blocks to go less than 2, got our bags up the smallest elevator yet, and checked into our room, it was after 8. We settled ourselves, found a pizzeria nearby (again, after more walking than "necessary"), and fell into bed. What Steph considers heavenly memory foam beds, especially after 4 nights on beds with only the top mattress and through which springs poked at rather uncomfortable points. Ellen found our Rome beds even more uncomfortable than did the younger Steph, but our Florence beds are much less of an improvement in her estimation.
The hotel in general is a bit of a piece of work. The elevator is smaller than any of the other tiny European "lifts" we've come across yet. And it's so old (or just basic?) that you actually have to close the outer cage door then the inner doors yourself. The walls of our room are a rather garish maroon color, which accentuates the blemishes rather than covers them. And the shower. Oh, the shower. It takes at least 3 minutes to get hot water, and the first morning we totally flooded the bathroom floor because we didn't realize that the wall of the shower doesn't make contact with the wall of the room so enough water leaked out to leave a standing puddle, which only accentuated the gross-out factor.
On the plus side, the woman who checked us in marked up a map of the city for us and showed us where to go for the most amazing gelato yet. And there's a slightly more substantial continental breakfast her for our 5 euros. Including gluten-free bready options so Steph finally experienced the delights of chocolate hazelnut spread at breakfast.
We visited all the sights we wanted to, plus several on our wish list, all in one day.
We got up and out in time for Steph to climb the 463 steps to the top of the dome of the cathedral before the long lines form in the mid-morning. What a view! Photos below. And what an accomplishment to build such an enormous prefectly circular dome. On the way down I stopped to view the various hoists and equipment that had to be designed in order to build the dome, to lift the enormous supporting timbers and roof tiles, etc.
Ellen stayed down and viewed the inside of the cathedral when it opened. She was unimpressed by the understated decor compared to other churches we've visited, but couldn't climb to the top with Steph; signs indicated that people with heart conditions, vertigo, or claustrophobia should not attempt it so she was definitely out. She did find some lovely chocolate across the street, though.
Steph descended with time to spare before our rendezvous, so bought some gelato in order to use a restroom (public toilets are much harder to come by in Florence). This put Steph ahead by one serving of gelato, though, which was a point of contention for the rest of the day. But it was so worth it.
After we met up, we set out to find the gelato shop that the woman at the front desk of the motel had told us about. When we found a place with over 30 flavors, including several we had seen nowhere else, we decided this must be the place even though the name didn't match. And it was amazing, just as she had said, so we were happy with our pre-lunch snack.
Just around the corner a woman sat in a tiny booth selling tickets to enter the Uffizi Gallery, a place notorious for long lines. For a few extra euros we bought our tickets right there with absolutely no line, then headed out to explore more of the city until our designated entrance time.
We walked across the Ponte Vecchio bridge, ogling at some of the expensive jewelry items there and taking photos at the midpoint of the bridge. Not too far from the other end of the bridge is the enormous Pitti Palace. Ellen laid on the warm bricks of the plaza like many others were doing, then we high-tailed it back across the bridge to the museum. A slice of potato pizza balanced out the sugar coursing through our veins.
Steph really wanted to return to the Uffizi Gallery for the express purpose of sitting in front of Botticelli's painting dubbed "La Primavera" for as long as she needed to soak it in. We saw some other lovely things along the way, and things that just belong in a museum but don't exactly speak to the soul. A series of seven paintings by Botticelli reflect the seven Virtues, which was also captivating. I just love how he paints women. There's a tenderness without banality, an understated but unmistakable strength at their core. Somehow. Mmmm.
Both of us have very little patience for museums, so we exited early through an emergency exit (with permission!). We sat in the large Piazza della Signora with a little snack (cannoli and a bit of chocolate). Ellen was taken in by a clown performing at the edge of the square, and Steph took a little time to work on the blog and people watch.
Earlier in the day we had taken photos of the copy of Michelangelo's David there in the square. We decided that we had neither the energy to walk up the hill to the original location of the statue (where now sits another copy) nor the desire to go into the Accademia museum where the original is now kept safe.
However, we set out on what became a bit too long of a walk for Ellen's hip. We visited the Piazza of San Lorenzo (the church had just closed to visitors) and patronized a few of the market stalls that line the street on the way to the big Mercado Central. We then walked by the Santa Maria Novella church, with its similar stonework to the cathedral (I think this older church was part of the inspiration for il Duomo). We came upon a fascinating old-style butcher shop with smoked pork hanging from the ceiling and a restaurant next door. We had a mission, though. Steph had found a restaurant online that promised gluten-free pasta options, so we pressed on in that direction even though Ellen found it painful to walk by this point. We walked through Piazza del Repubblica and a block further east discovered Festival del Gelato, the even more amazing shop that our hotel lady had tried to mark on the map for us. Eureka! Ellen counted 62 flavors.
We stepped into a church when the sound of an organ concert beckoned us in. Apparently there are two performances nightly as a fundraiser for the church. We left as the finale bounced off the many hard surfaces and made something close to a cacophony for Steph's stuffy-headed sensitive ears.
Just another block or so down the street was Vecchio Firenze, the restaurant we were seeking. Oh, boy, was it worth the trip. We each ordered the set menu, which gave us four courses for 12 and 15 euros respectively. It was our best meal yet, both for quality and price. Tuscans really know what to do with food. And the owner came around to each table to chat as you finished your meal. Ellen had a clear view of an older man eating his dinner who she surmised was the original owner, the father of the man schmoozing with the patrons. And the older gentleman most definitely fit her profile of a member of the mafia.
We managed to hoof it up the hill to our hotel on our own power and fell into bed after a full but delightful day.
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