Heart Flies 2 Throat When Brunelleschi's Dome Appears Over Firenze

How can it be that Brunelleschi's 13-14C architectural and engineering masterpiece still dominates the Florence skyline after centuries of wars, plagues, earthquakes, floods, countless governments, and modernization? But there she was, riding the horizon as I approached the city yesterday, and in a flash of memory at the Duomo's forgotten beauty, my heart flew into my throat at the sight. Somehow, seeing that dome, the world felt as steady and full of grace as it had on my last visit in 1982.

Of course, I was sleep deprived, and that state can always lead one to romanticizing in the oddest of ways. I was just glad to set myself down in a place that affirmed I was expected. What I didn't expect was the kindred spirit from Vancouver, BC who introduced herself, treated me to a cappuccino, and proceeded to relate her just-completed experiences of hiking in Tuscany, which sold me on her appropriateness as a companion in my jet-lagged state. She said that because of mud slides at one of the Cinque Terre villages, their group had walked inland around the town, adding kilometers to the trek. Tuscany has had unusually heavy rains this spring, which worries the tourist industry, but the landscape is as green as Ireland. Later, over dinner, a woman at an adjoining table, also traveling solo, joined in a spirited discussion of age, climate change, northern Italians' dismissal of southerners, and the beauty of the Amalfi coast vs. Big Sur. At the end, exchanging names, we discovered that there had been a confluence of the eddies of Murray, MacDonell, and McGowan. 

In the night, the huge piazza which my room overlooks (Santissima Annunziata) repeatedly ricocheted with laughter, singing, shouting, and cursing, all undoubtedly under the influence of the Tuscan sun and wine. I took a photo, shared here, of the piazza in the floodlights. What I didn't realize until this morning is that the loggia I look across to and captured in the photo is Brunelleschi's, the Ospedale degli Innocenti (Hospital of the Innocents) which was begun in 1419 to house orphans (and still does). Above the columns, faintly seen in the photograph, are glazed terra cotta medallions by Andrea della Robbia. The equestrian is Grand Duke Ferdinand I, a Medici who governed with some care for his subjects, designed by Giambologna.

Imagine. A Brunelleschi wonder right across the piazza from me. What a gift. No lines. No fees. Just a view from my window whenever I want to make sure it's there, that I haven't dreamed it. 

Here are three photos of the Ospedale degli Innocenti, one by floodlight and the other at dusk today at the close of a "European Federation" rally. I don't know about the politics, but I know Italian style when I see it; check out the uniforms of the carabinieri (and their relaxed presence at the rally vs. any garden variety demonstration in D.C.). The rake of the hats! 

The final photo is of the Duomo as I approached it this morning on the street leading from my hotel. Coy, isn't it, revealing so little of itself? It is huge! It's the third largest cathedral after the Vatican and St. Paul's in London.