Florence (25 Jul 1997)
25 Jul 1997
Friday. I got up at leisure, had a decent if not satisfying breakfast, and set off for the sights. At the breakfast table two Italian girls asked how old I was – you know, as if to say you ought to be with your parents. I said 25 and they said I looked much younger. Someone in Rome had told me I looked a mere child. I don’t feel complimented. Amused sometimes, irritated sometimes.
Took the bus into town, dumped the luggage at the “Deposito Bagagli” at the station, went to Mac’s for a vanilla milk shake and took my time about it. 11 am. Now I was properly fed to face the museums. Then the Galleria dell’Accademia to see David by Michelangelo. Some other stuff was also on display, which I dutifully went around and saw without retaining much. There are also four half-finished sculptures of Michelangelo’s – four slaves roughly cut in rock, still left imprisoned in stone. And another Pieta, which is positively ugly. There are theories he didn’t create it. My idol might not have clay feet yet.
After that: walking from piazza to piazza, church to museum. The Uffizi Gallery has some real good Botticelli and one Michelangelo. Santa Croce Church: I went to see Michelangelo’s tomb. There is an old-age bust of him on it. I wonder what he looked like in his youth. He did a brilliantly disguised self-caricature in the Last Judgement fresco in the Vatican Sistine Chapel; after seeing the sculpted bust, I could make out the resemblance. The same church has the note-worthy tombs of Galileo Galilei, Enrico Fermi, Machiavelli and Dante. Beginning to sound like my guide book now.
The Duomo is a lovely smooth dome structure from the outside. Looked in briefly: eight faces narrowing to a point at the top. The inside is frescoed in style, but the figures are not particularly memorable.
Medici Chapel and the National Museum: both shut. Walked up and down the Ponte Vecchio just to say I did it. All experiences are numbed by crowds, and this famous ponte was certainly crowded. Unlike the Tiber of Rome, River Arno in Florence is at least not totally ignored – it might be passed over, but not bypassed.
The best laid plans of mice and men
Now for the suspense bit. I had smartly booked a couchette from Rome to Milan for that night – since I had no hostel for the 25th, I planned to travel down to Rome from Florence, catch the night train back up to Milan, arrive at 6am rested, and be in time for the TGV to Paris. Like all best laid plans, there had to be a catch in this one too.
I reached Florence station an hour before my train for Rome and found that all trains to Rome were running late. It got worse and worse. I knew I couldn’t make the 22:40 at Rome. No point going further away from Milan with all the delays. I made a quick decision before the reservation counters closed, and caught the last Eurostar from Florence to Milan. I even managed to cancel the earlier Rome–Milan reservation. Arrived in Milan at midnight.
Only catch: I was now spending the night at Milan Centrale railway station.
