On not seeing 'David'

Lyn assuaged her latest bout of homesickness with a shopping blitz. In one hour she bought joggers, make-up, panadol, socks and a scarf. Part of this ill-matched ensemble is displayed below.

Then we decided to go to see the Accademia, home of Michelangelo's David. However, the queue was long that we decided that waiting to look at David with hundreds of others was a waste of time ... So we decided we were happy to leave Florence without seeing THE David. After all. it isn't as if we don't know what it looks like. If we had forgotten then we only had to look around us...

David, I presume, or part thereof...

Instead we walked towards the Bargello. On the way we visited the Spedale Degli Innocenti. This had a foodie market in the square out front. 

The Spedale is the oldest orphanage anywhere. The bars of the entrance were designed so that only newborns could pass through. Surrendered children were pushed through the bars onto a cushion. 

Lyn likes sculpture. The Bargello was peaceful and fascinating. There were more 'Davids' there too. And some Michelangelo sculptures. But NOT Michelangelo's David. 

David

David

David

Every bit as fascinating for me were the birds. In the Bargello was a display of marvellous bronze birds made by somebody famous (who I forget) to decorate some Medici palazzo. Throughout history people have been immensely self-conscious about portraying themselves, the poser and the artist are always trying to say something. (The Bargello had a massive bronze bust of Cosimo De Medici. It said, "Don't mess with me.") The results are often oddly unrealistic, from ancient Egypt to 'David'. Birds, on the other hand, don't have to say anything.

This is my latest picture of Italian police. They'd chosen an interesting place in the Piazza to observe the tourists, or to be observed by the tourists, and of course there is always a bird ...

Then we walked home and had Prosecco and lunch. After Lyn's power nap we walked to the beautiful Santa Croce. This had stained glass, cloisters, chapels, frescoes, the tombs of Michelangelo and Galileo and a final bonus, when they were kicking us out we all paused to listen to the great bells ringing. The photo that concludes this entry suggests that Santa Croce may be suffering the 'Leaning Tower of Pisa' disease but it is just that Lyn had control of the camera.

The figure front right is probably not David.

Tonight we had dinner at the restaurant across the street. Australian couple next to us. Australians behind us to the left. Nu Zlndz behind to the right.  

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.