Florentine escapade

Catching sight of my name scrawled on a piece of white paper, I made my way through the disembarking crowd and came face to smiling face with Sophia, having recognized her from her online profile. She would be my hostess while in Florence, and had graciously offered to meet me at the train station. After a warm reception, we began our immersion into this Renaissance city, with her offering tidbits as we passed landmark after landmark, and I hauled along my rolling suitcase, jostling over the cobbled stones.

It took little time to notice that in this throbbing heart of creativity, pedestrians ruled the streets, with regular “area pedonale” signs to declare it so; second in line were the mopeds. I almost felt sorry for the car drivers, forced to tarry behind everyone else and perilously squeeze down cramped streets. Almost. It gave us freedom to step down off the narrow sidewalks when approaching foot traffic left no room for the both of us. It would be this ease of movement that would introduce me to much of what Firenze had to offer, both of the past and present.

My “to see’s” included the David, of course, housed in the Galleria dell’Accademia, and The Birth of Venus hanging in the Uffizi Gallery, along with various other treasures throughout the city’s abundance of museums. Having been ground zero for the artistic reawakening of the 15th century, there was no shortage of masterpieces to see. I had no idea, however, of the ongoing artistry happening on the very streets of today’s city. That is, until, I stumbled across it.

Mounted on a stone brick wall along a deserted street, was a painting of Florence’s golden son, Dante, in profile, wearing a scuba mask. Not far from there, I passed an artist as he meticulously recreated the Mona Lisa…in chalk…in the middle of a street. Steps from the Ponte Vecchio, a bridge so admired that Hitler saw fit to spare it while retreating from the city, was a parade of man creatures in procession up the side of a building, an eye catching installation that several had stopped to marvel at. Quite possibly my favorite, though, was a small, 2 inch figure at the base of a random wall, arm outstretched to an escaping red balloon, beneath the one word title: Lost. Both heartbreaking and hilarious (who of us hasn’t been there?), I snapped a picture and continued on, keeping my eyes peeled for other creative gems in unexpected places. I never would have guessed I’d find as much outside of Florence’s museum walls, as in.