FIRENZE/FLORENCE, Italy

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Flourishing city on the Arno river, capital of Tuscany, center of the Italian Renaissance for two centuries, there is little new I want to write about Firenze (Florence). The tourist books have had a long time to cover all there is to see in this long-admired city. One can most agreeably saunter through the city’s many, many artistic treasures in paintings and sculpture, museums, architecture, food, and literary history.

The view at left is of Florence along the Arno, taken from the Ponte Vecchio, The view below is of the Piazza della Signoria, possibly the most famous of the many famous squares in Florence.



You can see standing beside little you a huge statue (a replica) of Michelangelo's startling David. The original stands in the Galleria dell' Academia, along with other sculptures by our local hero, as well as paintings and sculptures from the 13th-16th centuries. It also contains an interesting collection of musical instruments, begun by the Medici family

But it's nice that the Piazza della Signoria, at the heart of the historic center, offers a free open-air sculpture exhibit... and some great pigeon-on-statue shots (I'll spare you that).  Also shown is the medieval Palazzo Vecchio --   Florence's town hall and  political center since the middle ages.

Of course you want to see (many times) the Galleria degli Uffizi, a museum housing what may be the world's finest collection of Italian Renaissance art (the Vatican Museum does pretty well, too). But it's a crowded place, especially as tourist season hits high gear. So, I avoided it this time round.

Because this blog is not a Firenze tour-guide  (click here for one) but only an idiosyncratic report of things that strike me while engaged in the art of living well in this sojourn in Italy, I will mention only a little about this eternal city that keeps calling its visitors to return.

I wanted to spend my time in Italy on the less-travelled paths, even just wanting to stay at home and experience what “home” felt like in Italy. Yet, as in previous visits to Italy, I had to visit Firenze again.

The drive into the city is heralded by flowers lining the center of the boulevard that creeps with traffic beside the Arno. The compensation for the traffic snarl is the smell of jacaranda all around you. Then, as you enter the historic city, it is always a surprise. No matter how recognizable the sites have become, the magnificent Duomo and the intricate architectural plans of palaces and piazzas make you part of something splendid to behold. And the same stones that you feel underneath your humbly hurting feet were tread by so many Florentine giants.

Marking a major literary and linguistic turning-point, the Florentine Dante Alighieri walked these streets.  Among the events in his politically active and sadly exiled life, he managed to be the first to write in (thus partly creating) vernacular Italian. The exalted Divine Comedy gave rise to more truly ‘vulgar’ literary works by another Florentine coming not long afterward: Boccaccio and his Decameron. The Florentine literary influence spread even to  Chaucer, whose vernacular English Canterbury Tales were certainly influenced by Boccaccio, whom he also likely met on a trip to Italy. Even today, Firenze holds a place of honor in the Italian language. Italians I’ve asked in different regions tell me that their language is best spoken here, in Tuscany.

Dante Alighieri, attributed to Giotto

Even across the Atlantic, the culturally enlightened U.S. President, Thomas Jefferson (living at a time when culture was not anathema to democracy) was influenced by Italian humanism in his scholarly interests in arts and sciences, his skills as an architect (literal and metaphoric as nation-builder), and even his love of music. Jefferson wrote in a 1778 letter to the humanist Florentine scholar, Giovanni Fabbroni, about his love of Italian music: If there is a gratification which I envy any people in this world, it is to your country its music. This is the favorite passion of my soul, and fortune has cast my lot in a country where it is in a state of deplorable barbarism.

We went to see only one thing the first day we visited Firenze. It remains a personal favorite: San Marco, the convent which intimately houses the fresoes of Fra Angelico. (Mendicant orders like the Dominicans and Franciscans use the word convent for both men's and women's establishments.) 

Among all the splendid art in Florence and the emphatic paintings and sculpture and architecture of Michelangelo and tributes to his influence, there rests this relatively small Dominican convent with its cloisters (above).  In it, on the second floor among the small cells of its former monks, are the quietly serene, even humble, frescoes of  Fra Angelico. Their gentle colors and modeling, lyrical contours and somewhat shy expression are just so quietly beautiful. As you walk up the stairway to the second floor (first floor above the ground),  you are greeted  at the landing by a ‘just-so’ masterpiece of the Annunciation. You can see the cloister of San Marco in it, can't you? In contrast to Michelangelo's work, I would not call  grand; but it is glorious.

Then, peeking into the monastic cells, their wooden doors open but the entrance barred by rope, you see the frescoes on the walls, many done by Fra Angelico. This strikes me as so much more impressive than frescoes on museum walls, no matter how important they are and even if I feel thankful to see them at all. But here, here is the context (handed down to us) that gave immediate meaning to the work. I wonder if the individual brothers got to request a particular theme for their meditations and wonder how the paintings were assigned to the different cells.

Today’s Thought

Only through art can we emerge from ourselves and know what another person sees.

--Marcel Proust

I don't want to quarrel with Proust, but I’d qualify the “only through” bit. Still, I very much agree that art is a transporter, a conduit to many different realities. And I fear when art and art appreciation are cut from the "essentials" in public school programs.

Lest the quiet dignity of many of Fra Angelico’s works leaves you wishing for more drama, there’s always a visit to the corner cell at San Marco, where you can feel the lingering presence of Savonarola, who was a toddler when Fra Angelio died. Savonarola's cloak remains, and if  one has any imagination at all, it is chilling. Savonarola was a friar and Prior at San Marco for over a decade. For a brief time, he even became the notorious ruler of Florence during the plague, and met his end in 1498 by execution via hanging and then burning in the Piazza della Signora.

Walking in Florence, with masterpieces everywhere around you, it's not surprising to find street artists kneeling and finishing their Michelangelo on the pavement. Art lives everywhere.

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Today’s Food for Thought

Florentine steak - Bistecca a la Fiorentina 

This is not for the tender-hearted (in several senses). You’ve just got to love red meat. I've excerpted this recipe from this site you can click on.

The meat must be from a young beef, at least two finger-widths high of choice sirloin and include the bone (e.g., a porterhouse steak). As Prezzolini writes in his Life of Machiavelli, "cut from the young steer, with the rib attached, you look like a slab of brocatello marable, red and veined with white". To cook the steak, opinions vary. Some recommend rubbing it with oil, salt and pepper first. Some consider this blasphemy and place it, as is, on the grill over a glowing charcoal fire (there are also different thoughts on the correct kind of wood). It should be turned only once and the grill must leave its mark on both sides. When it is nearly done, season with salt and pepper (never beforehand, since it would dry the meat) and, as soon as you see that the salt has stiffened, serve with a pat of fresh butter on top. 30 min. After a suitable time for digestion, go for a 10 mile walk.

Today's Painting

Susannah, painting by Janet Strayer

I slide easily from the religious to the profane. So, after a stop for gelato, we went on to the Ponte Vecchio to look for some earrings.

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This old bridge is always festive. But it’s always been part of a working city, too. Florentine wools. Florentine gold. Florentine leather and paper. I got a pair of small earrings on this crowded sunny day. Also some beautiful presents. Nearby, off the bridge and thinking of home in Canada, I got a pair of gloves.

The Rock: Gibraltar

Did you know that you can see Africa from Spain? Yup, sitting at a cafe in Tarifa and looking right across the Strait of Gibraltar... there it is!

Africa is less than 10 mi (16 km) south of Spain at the Strait of Gibraltar. Being so near to northern Africa and bordering this water bridge between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic has made Spain a a strategic spot for trade and conquest for centuries. This brings to mind the interesting convergence of geography and political coincidence that subsequently becomes ‘historical destiny’.

If not for this meager geographical distance, Spain, originally inhabited by Celts, Iberians, and Basques and annexed to the Roman Empire in 206 B.C. when Scipio Africanus conquered it, might have become more typical of other Mediterranean-European countries that also endured the decline of the Roman Empire and its subsequent barbarian invasion by  Goths in the early 5^th C.

But just a short distance makes a tall difference to history, even with Gibraltar looming large. In 711, only about 100 years after the death of the Prophet Mohammed, the Muslims under Tariq entered Spain from Africa and within a few years consolidated their rule, concentrated in the territory they called Al-Andalus (Andalucia). All of Spanish history and culture was thereby changed and made unique within Europe, as I’ve noted throughout my postings.

Geography isn’t everything, of course. There was also that surprising feat accomplished by Columbus in 1492, with a little venture capital and a “what’s to lose” empire-building attitude of the reigning Catholic Monarchs of Spain. So happenstance should also get credited for much in history-making. 

What if the Italians had been just a bit more supportive of their native son? Perhaps they, not the Spanish, would have ruled the seas for the next century and italianized the 'New World'. Maybe pizza would have come sooner. But the Italians had their chance, and remembering the Romans, did their imperial bit. Still, there’s a statue of Columbus in the harbor at Genoa, and I bet a lot of sour grapes have been passed over that particular missed opportunity. 

No empire retains hegemony. Not the Roman, nor the Islamic rule of Spain in the middle ages, nor Spain's Catholic Monarchy (subsequently claimed by the Hapsburgs), which did have a pretty long run at managing and mismanaging the largest empire in the Western world for three centuries

Continuing our coincidental "what-if" thinking, if there hadn’t been a terrible storm, perhaps the ‘invincible’ Spanish Armada wouldn’t have been beaten by an inferior English fleet in 1588, again dramatically changing the history of Europe and the colonization of North America. 


Still, Spain remained the most powerful state in Europe and the foremost global and colonial power during the
16th C and the greater part of the 17th C. By then, depleting its enormous wealth in religiously-slanted wars and embroilments in Europe and elsewhere, Spain was on the road to losing much of its empire. Under its increasingly inept Hapsburg rulers, Spain  declined as a major world player in the late 17^th C. For more historical insights, click  and click.

We spent part of the morning walking around Tarifa, the southernmost European city. Billed as great place for wind-surfing and having some nice beaches, it provided a pleasant a way-station for us. I'd been there once before, the only non-Spanish person on a rollicky Spanish tour bus headed for Morocco. That was a trip in itself. But now, we were driving via ferry to the Rock itself: Gibraltar. 

Tarifa is  a small town with the remains of fortresses and monuments to skirmishes during the Spanish 'crusades' against the Moors. This little fishing town was the first point of the Moorish invasion of Southern Spain in 711 AD. There's a statue to  Guzman El Bueno who in defended the town against the invading Moors in 1295.


According to the local story the Moors captured and threatened to kill his son if Guzman didn't surrender the town. Dad refused, throwing down his sword -- with which they killed his son. The statue is near a nice little family park. There were kids riding tricycles, and I thought about this story. How good was Guzman the Good? Would you really want a hero who loved his patriotic principles more than his son?  If only our capacity for joy were developed as highly and endorsed as much in principle as our capacity for war.  




Today's Thought

It is always easier to fight for one’s principles than to live up to them.

-- Alfred Adler

Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to all other countries because you were born in it.

-- George Bernard Shaw

The principles which men give to themselves end by overwhelming their noblest intentions.

--Albert Camus

Tarifa is still a major port of entry, now mostly for tourist ferries to and from North Africa. Local fishermen still use the ancient Almadraba method of fishing using a circle of boats and nets. Tuna fishing is big during its season (end of March-June). It's still a charming place for a stroll.

We had a seafood lunch at one of small outdoor restauranta lining the port and watched our ferry near shore. Sitting where the Mediterranean Sea meets the Atlantic Ocean, on a clear day one can enjoy spectacular views of the Rif mountains of Africa across the water. To give you an idea of how close it is to North Africa, the fast ferry Tarifa-Tanger  takes only 35 minutes. That's less time that it takes most of us to drive to work.

The rock of Gibraltar, one of the Pillars of Hercules in Greek mythology, has been a constant landmark for  thousands of years. Photographs cannot prepare you for the Gibraltar's physical impact. You see it looming miles and miles away on the shores of Andalucia. But as you approach it, its massive scale becomes overpowering. It's been described as "a 1,396-foot-high boulder - sheer on one side, a city of 30,000 clinging to the bottom third of the other". 
Oddly, there's no mention of Gibraltar on the directional signs along Spain's coastal expressway. You see the rock right in your face before you know how to reach it. You figure this out t by going as far as you can toward the sea.

Gibraltar is British, despite continuing Spanish claims. The Rock was captured and ceded to the British crown in 1713 during the War of the Spanish Succession. Spain made repeated military efforts to get it back and now relies on diplomatic means. The population of Gibraltar, who speak both English and Spanish (often in the same sentence) recently (2002) rejected a referedum for joint Spanish-British sovereignty. 


Gibraltar is a tourist attraction. But on the cloud-covered afternoon of our visit, it made me claustrophobic to be on and in the Rock. There are buildings inside the rock as well as on top of it. The streets are narrow and much seems underground or perching on impossibly narrow and crowded little grey roads with high grey walls banking them. Military establishments and personnel also seem to be everwhere.


The  British pound is the ruling currency. There’s British whiskey to buy, along with dry goods from Marks and Sparks if you’ve been longing for them. We didn’t stay for too long, getting a bit of a dungeon feeling. Yet, the Rock itself is quite impressive viewed almost anywhere from the southern coast of Spain -- which is from where I’d rather view it. But, my view is idiosyncratic, as always. If you want some more positive tips on it as a tourist destination, check out this NYTimes article.

I want to leave you with a warning. Spanish ice cream can be hazardous! An ice cream bar can cost you more than $50 in Spain! That’s if you happen to eat it while driving your car. It happened to us. I couldn’t believe it. True: it’s the law and that’s the fine. But, when it’s usual for cars to hurl way past the speed limit, their drivers glued to cellphones (also against the law) and routinely crossing lanes without signals and with only inches to spare, it's rather sardonic to fine someone for pulling out of parking spot with a ice-cream bar in his mouth! Chalk it up to experience.

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This may be my last posting about Spain. So let me leave you with another photo of my dear totemic Pepe enjoying the Andalucian sunset. 


It is  always such a different experience actually to meet people on a one-to-one basis than to read their history. Spain is a land of so many contrasts, geographical and political: the rapacious extremes of the Spanish Civil War still remaining a potent example. Yet all the Spanish people (young and old) that we’ve met casually in our travels across regions of the country have so impressed us with their friendliness, readiness to offer help, easy manner and welcoming attitude that I’ve come to form a genuine stereotype of the “gracious Spaniard.”
Today's Painting

painting by Janet Strayer, see more click here

It’s been so easy for us with local citizens, even in large and bustling cities. Another thing we’ve noted is how indulgent (as well as attentive) Spanish people seem to be with their kids, and even other people’s kids. The little ones here seem not afraid of strangers (one might worry, but their parents let them roam within view) and we’ve had several come over to us in cafés, smiling and checking us out. 

The kids (even toddlers) are out with their parents at all hours of the night, being taken to pubs at 10 pm, which, as you know by now, is the time many Spaniards take their evening meal. They’re an energetic bunch, to say the least.  And, as the Spanish say often in Spain, it's a place where se vive bien. My sentiments exactly. Well, viva España! I’m glad to have had some opportunity to get to know it better. 

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El Refugio/The Refuge on the Costa del Sol

After our trips to  different places in Spain, we’d come back to our welcome home in Torre Blanca. Each time, as we approached warmer weather, the locale seemed to be getting more and more resort-like. By the time we were getting ready to leave Spain in mid April, it was brimming with sun and sunbathers. We could smell the coconut-scented suntan oil wafting up to our 10^th floor balcony.  Walking along the sea promenade was still a great pleasure for me, as was winding our way into Los Boliches to the small café I liked so much, its owners becoming more like friends. 

The sea is so prominent here that it’s good to remember there are some fine areas to explore in the surrounding high (and much cooler) hills. El Refugio (Jualan) is a nature reserve not far from Marbella that we’ve enjoyed visiting several times. 

Located not far from the beaches, it nevertheless is a climate away… and is aptly named a refuge.  Situated in the woods at sufficient altitude from the sea to be several degrees cooler and, with its forested grounds, it serves as a haven for the sun-drenched and beach-besotted. We visited several times: once in early March it was bracingly cool with strong winds but sun shining. We had it nearly to ourselves. But just a few weeks later in March it was very sunny and the long walks and hikes were often frequented by families.

After walking about a mile on a well-travelled path, you come to “the end”, as seen in the photo. Actually, it’s just one of the buena vistas to look out and down from. Yes, indeed, I’m happy to have been able to take my first (mini) hike in so long! 

I had to use walking sticks, still unable to trust my footing or balance. But rest assured: most people can easily manage the less arduous trails around El Refugio. There are also some more challenging hikes for the enthusiast. And the trails tend to be well-marked here… in contrast, say, to hiking in France.

El Refugio trails

French hiking guidebooks are notorious for telling you how long a trail should take you (if you are a marathoner!) but neglect to say how many kilometers it measures. I’m remembering how many times I’d get lost on hikes taken in southern France, trusting to my little French book written for randonneurs. The book would typically have some toss-off directions in French, telling you, say, to veer right of  “some stone vestiges of what was perhaps an old Roman encampment.” First off, how does a foreigner who’s not an archaeologist have the faintest clue of what “some stone vestiges” are supposed to look like? Secondly, the trail is filled with all sorts of stones and, having followed earlier such instructions, I’m usually hopelessly off the trail by now, imagining bread crumbs strewn along the path to guide me home again. Nevertheless, I’m still here to tell you about it. 

Looking up to the hills near the buena vista spot is a fine bronze statue of a mountain goat that takes you by surprise. 

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I, who tend to name nearly everything, named her Millicita, a homage to a famous little mountain goat on Saturna Island who was born in 2000, named Millie by a friend of mine who reared her and introduced her back into her tribe of cliffwalkers on that mystical little island. That goat, despite all the differences in climate and culture, of course, reminded me of home at Saturna. But I’m not homesick. I'm just thinking of how lucky I am.

Today’s Thought

Most new discoveries are suddenly-seen things that were always there.

Susanne K. Langer


Today's Painting

painting by Janet Strayer

Walking around El Refugio is a welcome reminder of how simple pleasures can be. Taking the time, one step at a time, to enjoy all that surrounds us, to notice how the air feels, see the colors shift, to enjoy others or one’s own company, the remarkableness of feeling alive in the world. 

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BARCELONA

We won’t leave Spain without visiting one of my favorite cities: Barcelona. It is a modern, hip city filled with vibrant energy and lots of interesting sights. If you were plunked right down into in, I’m not sure you’d know exactly where you were in Europe. It’s definitely not Kansas, but not necessarily Spanish either (as I’ve come to know it, anyway). Barcelona buzzes like a place on the move and dances to its own inventive rhythms.

Barcelona is Catalan, with its own culture and language (street signs here are in both languages), though it is not demanding independence from Spain, in contrast to the Basques. The Catalan language seems at least to be accessible to reading if you know Spanish and French… again in contrast to Basque (see my posting on Bilbao). It would take a more politically astute person than I to explain why. But possibly, they already have possession of what they want. 

Architonic, painting by Janet Strayer, click for more

To me, not conversant in local politics, Barcelona (and other Cataluñian places we visited), seemed quite thriving in a sense of individuality and self-determined development, as well as in receiving favorable public acknowledgement within and outside of Spain. Perhaps this contributes to making Cataluñia less strident in its politics than what we hear of Basque independence demands. 

 Today's Thought

The creation continues incessantly through the media of man....

But man does not create... he discovers. 

--Antonio Gaudi

The great quality of true art is that it rediscovers, grasps and reveals to us that reality far from where we live, from which we get farther and farther away as the conventional knowledge we substitute for it becomes thicker and more impermeable. 

--Marcel Proust

Like most fairly big cities, Barcelona has many concrete apartment buildings and offices comprising rather uninteresting sections of town. It also has pollution, but is trying to get green. The air seemed very clear when we visited. Mostly, though, it’s a city tuned to its own heartbeat, which beats strong. It’s upbeat, vibrant, young in outlook, easy to live in, except that everyone walks so fast. 

See all the fabulous Gaudi you can take in  (not only the Sagrada Familia, which must be the most unusual cathedral in the world. Gaudi’s personal take on Art-Nuveau Gothic is always an adventure. 

 Guell Park is a welcome outing within the city, much visited by locals and tourists alike Gaudi's dream-like park, with fine views of the city. The park boasts both a set of gardens and architectural complex atop El Carmel hill.  La Torre Rosa, Gaudi’s former home (now a museum) has interesting features inside and out. 

See also the random buildings Gaudi designed around the city as you walk. They are scattered treasures among its apartment houses. Call these structures interesting, organic, weird, inventive, whatever. But they offer quite nice surprises. People must enjoy living in them, and I’d like to have met someone who does. 

The challenge of designing city housing that doesn’t look like a vertical mausoleum seems a big one. But Gaudi has certainly met it, as has another mystical artist-architect: Fritz  Hundertwasser in Vienna. I suppose some will find their works off-putting or even a bit Disneyesque in the midst of grey and humorless city facades. 

But I’m all for it.  

In addition to all else, Barcelona has the best tapas we’ve eaten. I had the best and most diversely yummy selection of tapas at a very nice fine restaurant  with an unassuming name (Cervezeria Cataluna?).You can sit at the large tapas bar, with the beautifully presented dishes all around you under glass. Or you can go into the formal dining room and have a full-service dinner, including your selection of tapas.  It’s located somewhere near the Astoria Hotel. Ask the friendly-helpful desk staff there.

 The Astoria Hotel reminds me of a better kept version of the Chelsea Hotel (NYC), with a similar artsy history. All the people in Barcelona seemed friendly and lively and ready to help, even though they rush around a lot. Here's a photo I took looking down upon its elegant staircase:

Barcelona has a good assortment of art museums, contemporary and traditional  (*the Cataluña), Its shops are inviting, including some stylish clothing. Very trendy, very much its own.  Walking  around the city is interesting, particularly Las Ramblas with its street performers -- like a brighter, more upbeat NYC.

street performers on Las Ramblas when I visited (JS)

Walking along the wide boulevard known as Las Ramblas, one is treated to lots of good street performers. I’d hoped to view original paintings on display there as well, but maybe it wasn’t yet the season. I guess I’ll have to come back!