Tickets on myself

This was a quieter day. We began with Lyn shopping unsuccessfully for shoes. (She failed to find shoes in Rome in 2013. She could well be the only woman in history who couldn't find shoes she wanted in Italy...)

Then we went to The Basilica of San Lorenzo. It was meant to have a facade by Michelangelo but it was never even started, which leaves it looking rather dull from the outside. The part that most impressed me was the beautifully simple Old Sacristy, designed by Brunelleschi with interior design by Donatello. More comical was a huge fresco of the martyrdom of St Lorenzo by Bronzini. The artist seems to have been very keen on muscular figures. The result is that the martyrdom of St Lawrence looks more like a fancy-dress bodybuilder's convention. Arnolfo Swarzennegenos posture and grapple while steroidal angels swoop about. 

We then walked across the river to Oltrarno to visit the Brancacchi Chapel. This is a masterpiece representing the combined efforts of Masolino, Massacchio and Fra Lippo Lippi. Next door is the refectory with the usual painting of the Last Supper. Lyn spotted cats under the table.

sailko

On the way back I recorded Lyn, a Florentine lamppost and Ossignanti in the background. 

We went back to Mercato Centrale for lunch. I got my ticket but the lady didn't take my money. The food was ready and I protested that I had not paid. She pointed out I must have paid because I had a ticket. I said I had not. She said no I must be mistaken because I had a ticket. It seemed the only way out of this impasse was to eat either the food or my ticket. I graciously accepted that I must have paid ... How else could I be in possession of a ticket?

Walking back through the local piazza I puzzled again over the two obelisks supported by bronze tortoises. Pigeons live there, despite the fishing line deployed to keep them out. It turns out that a Medici slogan was "Hasten slowly" so tortoises became a favourite motif.

Lyn went home for sleeps and I set out to climb the dome of the cathedral. I went in search of a ticket. The first line I joined was the line to climb the bell tower, not the dome. I deduced that a line I had seen previously on the opposite side of the cathedral must be the dome line. I did half a lap to discover, yes, it was the line, yes I needed a ticket, but no, tickets could not be bought there. Another bewildered patron, one of many, said she was told the ticket could be bought at Shop 7. Shop 7 turned out to be a sporting goods store so  ... no ticket. I remembered that on the farthest side of the piazza there was a tourist information centre. I did another half lap. Yes, I needed a ticket. Yes, the ticket office was the other side of the piazza. Off I went. There were 4 ticket machines. Two were out of order. One took cash only. A large crowd was trying, unsuccessfully, to inveigle it into surrendering a ticket. I went to the 'credit card only' machine, pressed the requisite buttons, and was told the transaction had failed. I found a counter with real people. They sold me a ticket. I walked back to the cathedral. After that, I reasoned, climbing the dome should be a snap.

It was a physical ordeal. It was also brilliant. From the gallery you could both look down to the cathedral floor far below and around you at the frescoes and windows. Then I climbed between the inner and outer domes seeing close up the brickwork that made up the cupola. Finally I emerged at the top to see the best view of Florence. I was inspired to take my first selfie.

I returned home jelly-legged. Lyn woke up in the early evening and felt like a walk. We walked back to Oltrarno, to Piazza Santo Spirito, for aperitivo. On the way I took a snap of Florence at sunset. We passed a black tie do. They are setting up for some big event here on Saturday.

I'll finish with two photos of the endlessly fascinating Italian police. 

The church carved from humbug

The title is not an anti-clerical metaphor. I'm referring to the peculiar black and white striped boiled lolly. The cathedral in Siena appears to be carved from humbug.

Michal Osmenda 

Lyn woke this morning and declared that after 3 nights in Florence she was homesick for the wonders of Warrimoo. To shake herself out off this slough of despond she declared she was ready for an adventure. We decided a trip by bus to Siena was the cure.

She bought the tickets and then we got on the wrong bus. Thankfully, we realised our error before it left. The right bus, Siena Rapido, took us to Siena relatively rapido.

Siena was a great city which succumbed to second-rate status due to a combination of the Black Death and Florence. This case of late-medieval arrested development has earned it world heritage classification. Or, as Lyn explains, "Siena looks different."

It looked even more 'different' today because some strange artistic festival has seen the entire city decorated with brightly coloured plastic animals. We had cobbled alleys, medieval houses, Gothic architecture and orange meerkats.

We found Siena Duomo, the cathedral, and well - it is simply the most amazing building I have ever seen. The facade starts off as spectacular, all pointed arches and stuff, then they added paintings, gold leaf, sculptures in every niche and gargoyles and whatnots hanging off it in all directions. If it wasn't so amazing you'd laugh.

Inside, the humbug columns are downright distracting. There was the usual confection of an altar, exquisitely carved and painted choir stalls, some stained class, rows of carved popes on high, frescoes everywhere - the Sienese had nowhere safe to look.

Incredibly, at our feet was a greater wonder. Siena spent two centuries hiring great artists to illustrate the marble paving. They graduated from designs crafted from drilled holes and bitumen - to coloured marble. Hundreds of years of the walking faithful have worn them to the extent that they are all uncovered for only a few weeks each year. We got lucky.

Early type

Later type. Is that Gandalf?

We explored the crypt, the baptistery and the museum.

Madonna of the death stare

Library roof

Lyn discovered a plant growing in the sheer marble wall of the baptistery. Can you see it? And did you notice the duck earlier?

We rested from these explorations with lunch. I played safe with the lasagna and Lyn ordered a seafood tagliatelle. The seafood looked too much like sea creatures for her tastes so she insisted we swap dishes. I reluctantly complied. She then gloated about the wonderful lasagna. Then, a moment of realisation, "This is going to be in the blog isn't it?"

We visited the giant segmented campo, home of the famous Pallio, admired the very high bell tower, and then went in search of the bus station.

We missed the Florence Rapido by seconds and then it began to rain. Rather than wait an hour for the next Rapido we caught the Florence not so Rapido. We got to see some interesting Tuscan countryside and eventually got home in time for me to watch the last three quarters of Australia v Fiji.

When too much art is barely enough

Ognissanti

Today began with two local churches. First we wandered down toward the river to Ognissanti. On the way Lyn found the local postman's vehicle apparently abandoned in the middle of the road. 

The church is beautiful and not very big. It seemed to Lyn more beautiful for being less grand.

I liked two paintings on opposite walls. These were Botticelli's St Augustine and Ghirlandaio's St Jerome. One or the other should be the patron saint of bloggers.

Botticelli's tomb is in Ognissanti too. There was a little open box on the rail above his tomb marker. In it people had left letters. He inspires fervent followers. 

Then we wandered up to Santa Maria Novella. Ghirlandaio's Tornabuoni Chapel was amazing in quality and scale. I tried to explain the significance of Masaccio's 'Trinity' to Lyn. She said, "Where's the Holy Spirit?" Then, seeing I was a little crushed, offered "It looks better from further back". (The Holy Spirit is the dove perched on his head.)

Web Gallery of Art:   Image  Info about artwork

The cloisters were beautiful and the foiled demons in the Spanish Chapel were fun too.

Not much further on was the Mercato Centrale. This is a beautifully converted warehouse with a lower floor for gourmet shopping and an upper floor with food outlets and a cooking school. Outside this sacred space for Italian food are tightly packed stalls flogging handbags and belts. We ate lunch and drank too much red wine.

Downstairs we bought ingredients for dinner and then raced back to leave it all at the apartment. We hurried across town to meet with our Uffizi tour. 

I'd decided a tour would be interesting and give Lyn a break from my voice. I learned plenty and Lyn spent much of the time looking for a place to sit. She seemed amused throughout. I'm not sure why but I suspect vino rosso.

I didn't experience Botticellimania but I was mightily impressed by Fra Lippo Lippi's Virgin. I admire the gall of a failed monk who runs off with a young nun and then proceeds to make her the model for all his paintings of the Virgin Mary. (She was a looker.)

The view out the window of the Uffizi

The final chapter saw us join many others on a long march into the bowels of the Uffizi in search of toilets. We arrived to discover long queues and hurried home instead. Our only stop was for Chianti Classico to go with dinner.  Mmmmm!

My challenge for tomorrow is an excursion which is painting free. Lyn insists.

Balls! Balls! Balls!

The family badge of the Medici family, which de facto ran Florence in its greatest years, was 5 red balls on a gold background with a 6th blue ball and a crown on top. Supporters of the Medici in their rivalries with other local families would chant, "Balls! Balls! Balls!" The family that dragged human history into the Renaissance had a great slogan. Their badge is everywhere if you look. Today Lyn kept finding it in the Palazzo Vecchio.

Today began with early morning Skyping with 3 of our children. Our jet-lagged state made this feasible. Eventually we dragged still aching bodies to the Duomo, Florence's truly staggering architectural statement that all you need is cartloads of money, vaulting ambition (nice phrase) and the serendipitous appearance of several geniuses at once, and you can have a nice church. I once read a whole book about Brunelleschi's dome but in lieu of a précis - I've included a picture or two below.

The Duomo from the Palazzo Vecchio

Giotto's Campanile

Before we went in, we lined up with hundreds of others. As the line lengthened without moving, shysters moved up and down the line offering "skip the line tours" for 15 Euro (currently about $28 in Australian funny money). Others sold "shawls for the church" to culturally sensitive foreigners. Then the custodians allowed entry and one of Christendom's largest churches gobbled the line. What did those innocents who coughed for 15€ think at that point?

Inside, twin mercenary captains are a reminder that Florence's invention of 'the Renaissance' was precariously protected by plenty of grunt. We looked at the painted dome and Lyn spent the children's inheritance on candles to pray for the same children who'd Skyped away the early morning. I delivered a quick viva voce on the Renaissance invention of perspective, to which Lyn replied, "I really like the windows".

Outside we admired Giotto's campanile and checked out the bronze doors of the baptistry (the building itself was closed for renovations. 

Then we ate half a lunch at a cafe because the $ is worth about half a € - and went to the Palazzo Vecchio Museo. This involves looking at ceilings painted mostly by the great Vasari. The palazzo is a hulking castle that was the seat of the Republic of Florence's ruling body, the Signoria. Looking at ceilings probably came easier to Florentines as a relief from looking very carefully where they trod when they were outside.

I liked the paintings of the fearsomely ugly Lorenzo the Magnificent looking statesmanlike and wise. The guy survived an assassination plot by the rival Pazzi family (in Church!, at Easter!) as well as invasions by the Pope and other enemies who were in on the plot. The assassins murdered Lorenzo's much better-looking, but less-clever, brother. (When Lee Harvey Oswald claimed, "I'm just a patsy" was he really saying "I'm just a Pazzi"?)

Lorenzo (right) looking down his infamous nose

Putti with a 'dolphin' (the sculptor had clearly never seen one)

The other thing I liked was a 4th century AD Roman who appeared to be looking at the Renaissance splendours around him and thinking, "been there, done that, bought the T shirt".

street-corner shrine

We staggered home for a nap. Then went for an evening stroll along the Arno. I cooked pasta and we drank Chianti. Completely wrecked...

Just like the Nepean except...

Florence (at last!)

We are descending towards Rome we hoped fiercely that our luggage would be meeting us!

We are glad to be out of Dubai. It seems a creepily paternalistic place for a modern woman like Lyn. Too many women looked like moving black tents. Every shop had a large staff of more modern-looking young women who were supervised by a male supervisor in a jacket and tie. These men appeared completely surplus to requirements.

We arrived at Rome airport which, in contrast, appears to be run by stylish young women, while the men sit at desks stamping passports with all the enthusiasm you would expect from people whose job is to stamp passports.

At Roma Terminale, the main station, we went in search of an Italian sim for my mobile. At the TM shop bewildered looking tourists took tickets and waited their turn. Three women worked there. They clearly had forms to fill, people to "Ciao" and kiss, and mysterious things to do in the back room. In an hour they moved from number 34 to 38. I was number 73. I gave up.

Downstairs we found the rival Wind outlet. I took a ticket. We moved more quickly through the long waiting list but it was still desperately slow. Anybody who goes to an Optus shop knows how slow!

Then disaster! A third young woman arrived. All work paused while everybody Ciaoed and kissed. Eventually she began work too. Meanwhile the scarily punctual Italian train network added a new dimension - we had 20 minutes till our train departed! 

I was at the point of giving up when my number was called. I went to the desk with a travel Sim pamphlet, my Samsung and my passport. "I need one of these but my train goes in 20 minutes!" Cara, Gabriella, Sophia, or whatever she was called, looked at me with an expression that said, "No chitchat for you", and hurtled through the Italian bureaucracy like Tarzan through the jungle. 20 Euro - and we were done with time to spare.

If I ever need to get something achieved in this country I'll just say my train is coming. However, I'm sure the Ciaoing and the kissing are the greater gift to world culture.

We caught the Frecciarossa to Florence on time and were able to relax. Then we walked the short distance to our apartment in Florence. This was was once part of a 15th century nunnery complete with garden courtyard, terracotta floors and frescoed ceilings - sort of shabby wow! We like it. On the short walk to the supermarket for supplies we stopped for a photo outside of the church of Santa Maria Novella. We wandered past an arched gallery decorated with the coats of arms of Florentine noble families.

Then we took an evening stroll before having dinner at a nearby osteria. We feel like we really are on holidays now.

Dubai the Incongruicity

Dubai is an incongruity. In a land where there is plenty of flat empty space they build UP! The tallest building - Burj Khalifa; 2nd tallest hotel - Burj Al-Arab; tallest hotel - JW Marriott Marquis Dubai;  the second biggest shopping mall has a ski slope and luge, and the biggest shopping mall has a giant aquarium. On the drive in from the airport I saw a department store decorated on the outside with giant reproductions of ancient Egyptian art. It is the sort of skyscape that makes you think that the Jetsons will suddenly putter around the nearest skyscraper.

The flight was dire. Not because the the aeroplane, food or the service was less than excellent, but because flying for over 13 hours is just a disgusting experience. Our first "experience" came in Sydney when the immensely obliging and efficient young woman from Emirates solved our seating problem - and then all three of us realised that she had sent our bags straight to Rome! In other words, we are in Dubai without a change of clothes. We'll cope because we don't feel energetic anyway.

We arrived at our hotel at about 7.00 a.m to find that our room wouldn't be ready for some hours. We went for a walk but the heat and humidity hit our tired bodies like a Loony Tunes anvil. We found and explored the Mall of the Emirates ('Ski Slope Mall'). We walked streets almost devoid of women. Hmm...

We then retired to the foyer where Lyn trawled the internet in search of an alternative way to get to and from Europe, without suffering the tyranny of distance, and avoiding Dubai.