Anniversary #26: Losing Each Other!

Bright with anticipation, under blue, blue Tuscan skies, we decide on Settignano as our anniversary destination. A day-trip, accessible by public transport (and the hallmark of our partnership - how cheaply can we do it?), it costs us €2 there and back!

Far up in the hills behind Florence, Settignano has been the home of artists, stonecutters, carvers, sculptors and writers for centuries. It is the entry point to an area famous for its marble quarries. Founded by the Romans, it is also the place where Michaelangelo spent his boyhood "suckled by a Settignanese milkwife" learning the beginnings of his trade amongst a great history of resident artists. Mark Twain spent a year here writing one of his novels from start to finish. A few torrid love affairs have been conducted behind the high walls of Settignano's beautiful villas.

In our 35 years together, we've come to know each other's ticks and tocks, how we fit together and how we don't. I'm a wanderer, Marc's a destinationer. 

Our most famous example happened early in our friendship, our elopement trip through Spain and Morocco. Passing through fields and fields of blooming sunflowers in Spain on a gloriously sunny day, fields and fields and fields of them!, Marc driving furiously in our rented Peugot, his stinky running shoes tied to each exterior rear-view mirror, banging against the car as they aired, me sobbing in the back seat, furious that he won't stop even for a photo, because 'we've GOT to get there!' I'm sure I'd made us late by dallying somewhere. We get to wherever we're going, I don't even remember, and vow that we'll work hard throughout our life together to never repeat the emotion of this day.  Happy to report that we've largely been successful.

Of course there's been hiccups! Our children can attest to many of them - dad's back road short cuts, 

his 'just over there is the BEST!", my confusing "I have no idea, but don't you just love it here?" tours, and always, always...me turning left when it's definitely right.

Back to Settignano. Mid-way through our day, following the ancient road above with  homes, villas, farms, a church,  chickens, dogs barking, our first olive groves, sun high, hunger growing, we're so happy at how this day is turning out but  we're striking out at finding the perfect anniversary picnic lunch spot. Ever the romantic, Marc is romping through the groves above me,  searching for where we'll eat. Calling to me every now and again to locate each other, me eventually sitting on the stone fence waiting for him to come down. Only he doesn't.

Let it be said that in all our years together, Marc has never NOT come back from his romps and I have NEVER moved from the spot  where he leaves me. It's our rhythm, an unspoken definite, as reliable as the sunrise.  Always waiting where he's left me,  he always  comes back and says, "found it!" Only this time I hear him call what I think is "come up!" which is a change to our rhythm, a surprise, it momentarily furrows my brow and is  different from all other times.

I hike up and up, and can't find him. I call, I call, I CALL, I sit down by an olive tree in protest, I scramble through briar, I yell at the olive grove in anger,  sit to think, I begin to imagine the worst. He is no longer answering my calls. I imagine the fall, an ancient well, a broken bone, and well, you get my drift of where my mind goes from there.  He carries the food!  Meanwhile he imagines his worst - an abduction by the sketchy gravediggers who's eyes we caught on our way past the local cemetery  - while traversing the road back, forth, back and forth, calling for me time and time again. 

Getting frantic. 

We have  missed each other on the down vs up and going over it later,  his last call to me was "don't come up, on my way down."  What feels like an hour. I make my way down the hill, to see him coming back from 'one last pass' en  route  to the village, both of us frantic and near tears. 

We yell at each other, we hug tightly and for longer than normal,  we eat lunch in the worst possible spot! We try to laugh, but we've given ourselves quite a scare. New rules are set for the duration of the trip. Among others, when travelling, always, always return to the spot where you were last together! And promises of no more separating - a very good promise  on this, our 26th wedding anniversary. 

Salvaging the day, trying not to  stay  shaken by the imaginings, we head back to the village, have a warming Cafe Americano, catch the bus, and head out for an impromptu and delicious Trattoria meal, replete with plenty of vino tinto a la casa!

Florence:

Hiker's directional markers, Settignano .

Post-script: years and years ago, tucked among Marc's mom's  belongings was an old non-descript  book, ravaged by time and stained with use.  It was Irving Stone's The Agony and the Ecstasy,  with her signature inside. I read it almost in one sitting and the story and feel have never left me.  Much like James Michener's iconic The Drifters, which defined youthful travel in the 60s and 70s (& informed my, and my friends' post university travel),  The Agony tells the story of the life and times of Michaelangelo Bounorotti, placing him in the history, the Renaisaance, the trades, the conflicts, the dynasties, bringing the story of shaping marble to life! Marc read it just prior to our planning's beginnings. Much of this portion of our time away is based on Irving Stone's book. 

Highly recommended.

The Uffizi

We made it inside our first Galleries! The Ufizzi hosts more than a million people per year, with line-ups in high season sometimes being 5 hours long. It's smaller sister, the Academmia delle'Arte is the 2nd most visited, with slightly smaller visit numbers. Being in the off-season, crowds are smaller, but wanting to diminish the number even further, Marc discovers in the fine print that Saturday nights, these 2 Galleries stay open till 11 pm!

Needing at least 3 hours for the Ufizzi first, we venture the long way around, doing our first crossing of the Ponte Vecchio, Florence's most famous bridge from the 1300s, home of the gold and silversmiths, and the only bridge left standing after the German's destructive retreat during World War II.

Painting by Antonietta Brandeis, Italian landscape painter, 1849-1920:

Entering Piazza Vecchio, we see our first many-story high sculptures, outdoors in the Piazza and those sheltered for 500 years in the Loggia, with an almost-full moon rising. Breathtaking. We stop to gather our wits at a patio with red wine and a platter of cheeses with honey.

Once inside, we are astonished to find only  100 others spending their Saturday night just like us, instead of 1000s jostling through. Often we are the only ones in the room. And rare indeed to get a photo of the main hallway empty. A beautiful night!

The entryway:

The main hallway, the Ufizzi - empty of people! It was originally Florence's Magistrates offices, commissioned by Cosimo Medici. With the die-out of this arts patronage dynasty, the last heir bequeathed all of  her holdings to the City of Florence.

Portrait of Michelangelo, taken from that ceiling: 

Some of the more notable artworks:

Adoration of the Magi, 1475, Roselli

Madonna and Child with Two Angels

Filippo Lippi, 1465 

The Tribune: in Renaissance architectural design, every palace had its grand showroom:

Seashell ceiling, spectacular! 

Spring,  Alessandro Boticelli, 1478

We have a small print of this, given to us by Don Wolvin, and it's hung in every bathroom we ever owned...and we never knew what it was! 

Our 1st Michelangelo! Doni  Tondo, 1507, his only painting done on wood. From what we've seen so far of other artists who were his colleagues, we now understand he was far and away a game-changing painter.

Venus of Urbino, Titian, 1538.

Brought to the Ufizzi in the 1700s, it was covered with a 'modesty  panel' for close to a century, particularly during the Queen Mother's tour.

Caravaggio, 1613, the Wedding Feast

The Ufizzi from the courtyard, at night. The Gallery follows the hallway in the square U with ante-rooms off of both exterior sides. 

Buongiorno!

Every morning at 15 minute intervals, between 8:30 and 10 am, from our window on Borgo de la Croce, Florence, Italy.

Finding the Green

Like any urban city, Florence has its pockets of green - small neighbourhood parks, overflowing balconies, botanical and formal gardens, and the University of Florence's research gardens where some specimens date from the 1300s!

Having lived in the forest for the last 20 years, since leaving Wakefield, Quebec a month ago, we have found ourselves in urban settings. Thank goodness - like the Gatineau River - Florence has the river Arno running through it, still undeveloped, still with fishermen, rowers, walkers and runners. When we're close, this is where we eat our lunch each day.

On Tuesdays, we find that the largest open air market occurs along the River Arno and beside Florence's Parco delle Cascine, their largest public park. At just under 400 acres, it matches the size 

of Gatineau Park and is half the size of New York's Central Park. Begun as the Medici's private hunting and farm grounds, it has made its way into public hands within the last century. You can read about it here.

Heading in via the kilometre-long market, we came upon the bird stalls, Sophie! Name the blue ones?

Next up, our first promenade!, in a park with over 19,000 specimens. 

Deep breathing as we spend the day roaming on non-pavement. 

You can just imagine Florentines of old promenading here in their satin gowns and caleche.

This ain't no Canadian Maple! 

With our change in latitude, wehave arrived back to mid-autumn.

The Beech trees to the left are at least 4 people around and line the park and Avenue Aeronautica, and many stages of bike racing have wound through this park and its velodrome. 

Another beautiful day of walking!

Puccini's Messa di Gloria

If you have even a bare, passing knowledge of classical music, you will recognize the name of  the Italian composer Puccini, a Tuscan native living during the late 1800s to mid 1900s. Recognized most for his opera works, La Boheme, Madama Butterfly, Tosca, he is credited with harnessing the symphony orchestra to most support words set to music.

One of my goals in Florence is to hear great musical works live, performed in these magnificent churches. Not one week in, we heard about the Municipal Choir of Florence performing Puccini's Messa di Gloria with soloists and 2 pianists playing on one Steinway grand, known as 4-hands. It is a rare treat indeed to see an accompaniment like this: imagine the orchestral score being reduced to a piano score! All performed in the Basilica di San Spirito, itself dating from 1444.

To hear an excerpt, here's a similar, short clip, that will give you a sense of the layering, the fullness, and the Gloria indeed to the religious setting.

Postcard from Florence: the Neighbourhood

Part of this sojourn is about, 

"Well, if we've sold our house and the kids are good, why pay rent in Canada?" 

"As a family, we manage a monthly budget of about 30 or so line items. How can we reduce that to 5?"

"If we can determine what amount we actually need to live on, can we spend that somewhere else?"

Coupled with last winter's deep cold very nearly doing us in, we faced the age old glass half-full or half-empty challenge: so we decided to make this time in our life an opportunity instead of a problem, and planning began. Thinking on how to explain, we are living in places as opposed to travelling through them: Slow Travel with a bit of the Art of Getting Lost thrown in. We don't have phones, we leave our tablets behind each day, disconnecting by even a little bit is turning out to be calming.

Our day's structure is the same as pre-homeless, but now that we've officially embarked, our joy factor is rising exponentially!

On Borgo de la Croce, our Florence home is situated in the old part of the city known as San Ambrogio, a neighbourhood with bustling street life, and home to families, workers, artists, musicians.  Old, old 3-4 storey apartments with inner courtyards, laundry lines, wafting conversations, Italian television shows, discomfited babies, church bells, small shops, a flea market, open-air food market and churches every few blocks. Accordions are played everywhere!

This is our building, our window is the middle one.



Our neighbourhood namesake, the Church of Saint Ambrogio, dates from the 10th century and we are surrounded by its life, cobblestone streets, tonne-stone walking paths that open onto Grande Boulevards and all sizes of Piazzas.  Wandering for hours every day brings us absolute joy!

We cook our own meals most days, which makes for adventurous trips through the daily farmer's market and the local grocery aisle.  Warm breakfasts are not a meal here, I cannot find oatmeal, Florentines prefer a stop in at their Cafe for a stand-up espresso and pastry. Prices are in Euros and not that much different than home, except in the farmer's market....literally dirt cheap. Seems outrageous "organic"  prices haven't yet reached Florence! Store-bought groceries are packaged with no English, resulting in some interesting purchases even when we're relying  on product photos and our dictionary!  Italians are very, very helpful!
  
Our street:

Our courtyard, where the main floor tenant washes crates and crates of fresh vegetables each morning. I think they are used for the Trattoria on our main floor. A Trattoria is a tiny restaurant seating maybe 20 that serves home-style light fare, plenty of coffee and wine. 

The bottom of this photo: Marc's stinky running gear hanging out to dry.

Our apartment, with everything we need. The ancient and cracking painted ceiling adds a nice touch we think! Our main window, 12 feet high, opens wide to let the warm fall air, sunshine and street music and noise in.

Communal garbage stations:

Florentines bring their separated garbage to numerous stations throughout each neighbourhood. Organic waste, recyclables, and everything else communally gathered. No house-to-house pick-up, 

with the streets being so small and many closed to traffic except durging rotating times per day.

The Flea Market, one block away!

  

We've made it inside exactly 1 famous gallery during our first week. The weather is beautiful, 10 degrees Celsius, exactly what we want for exploring the back roads of Florence, stopping for wine, coffee, cheese with honey!, getting ready for some great hiking in the hills behind Florence.  Yesterday, we sat on a piazza patio, reading our books in the sun, feeling quite at home, in love,  and blessed. Funny how all that works out time and time again during a 35 year partnership.

Next-up: Marc came to a church concert with me to hear Puccini's Messa de Gloria...sung!, 

AND it took him 6 days to find the closest rugby pitch.

Ciao, and love to you all

xx

Postcard from Florence

Four days in, 51 Italian words for Marc! Florence is a walker's paradise with the streets full until midnight of families, couples, workers, students all enjoying evening strolls, meals out, coffees, wines, snacks.  We are staying in a 2nd floor AirBnB apartment in the old city that is closed to cars, and all shops are family shops, all half the size of our Musie Loop kitchen, each specializing in one category of goods.

We spend our mornings reading, plotting, learning, studying maps, Marc goes for his discovery runs every other day. Afternoons are spent walking, discovering the layout of Florence, situating all the glorious art we want to see. With 5 weeks and warm weather to start, we are in no rush to head indoors yet. We have found fresh food markets, getting by on our growing vocabulary and hand signals with a little French and Spanish thrown in to see if that helps! Evenings we go out for another stroll, the piazzas and buildings beautifully lit for the night. We think we're averaging 7-10 kms per day.

Every morning, church bells ring out and in between these bells, we've had these 2 buskers strolling through the neighbourhood, often below our window. Combined with our morning quiet, with the windows wide open, it is an unbelievably joyful feeling.

On our 3rd day, we head towards the Duomo, and are completely unprepared for the sheer size and beauty of the facade. We sit on the stone steps to eat our lunch, knowing it will be days before we are prepared to go inside. Cannot wait to find out about choirs singing in here. Rounding the side, I come upon these 3 buskers. The violinist spies me readying my camera and they launch in to "Somewhere  my Love", which I will think is especially for me! They definitely get my Euro!

Florence is surrounded by low mountains with the River Arno cutting through the valley, and the city at its feet. We hike up to the highest point, stop midway at a public rose garden where we eat our picnic lunch.

Continuing on up, we reach the Piazza del Michaelangelo at the midway point.  We are overcome with being here!