Dispatches: Florence, Italy

Dispatches: Florence, Italy

'A man who has not been in Italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see.' -Samuel Johnson

This is not Michelangelo’s David.

1.

It is near impossible to describe Michelangelo's David. Best not to try. If you've been to the Galleria dell'Accademia, where the statue resides, you understand. The statue’s physical presence is more than can be portrayed in words. Instead, I could try to describe what it's like to see the statue in person. But even that requires the skills of a better writer than I.

I can’t tell you what it’s like to see David, but maybe I can tell you what's it like to think about seeing David.

It costs twenty euros and there’s always a line. You can book ahead, which cuts your waiting time. You can even pay for a tour and skip the line. But if you’re young and backpacking across Europe, staying in hostels and eating on the cheap, you’ll balk at that extra expense. You might think twice about seeing David at all. It is only a statue. There's one just like it in the square in front of the Palazzo Vecchio.

Such were my thoughts, as I surveyed the line stretching from the Accademia down through the small piazza at the end of the block and around the corner to the adjacent street. That was my first time in Florence. These same thoughts were echoed in a conversation with my wife during my second visit nearly ten years later. These thoughts can’t be helped, as Italy looms large not just as a vacation destination, but as an obligation.

Can you really go to Florence and not see David? Or will missing out trigger the kind of inadequacy referenced in the Samuel Johnson quote above? If you tell people that you’ve been to Florence and they ask you what you thought of David, what will they think when you tell them you skipped it? Will they assume that your trip to Italy was more about stuffing your face with pasta and gelato than about stuffing it with Italy’s rich cultural heritage?

Samuel Johnson’s words are best understood within the tradition of the Grand Tour, the jaunt around Europe that young men of a certain social rank often took as a capstone before fully entering into their adult responsibilities. The Grand Tour most often covered the capitals of continental Europe and the sites of the Classical period. In touring ancient Roman sites, those on the tour discovered the wonders of the Italian Renaissance. Of course, the Grand Tour also afforded the opportunity for a less wholesome class of lessons and experiences, but it remained an ostensibly educational endeavor. Those who took the tour were expected to come back with some taste of what the wider European world had to offer.

We no longer speak of such expectations or obligations to our own development. Such talk has become declassee. Instead, we speak of social responsibility and the need for filling out our resumes. Or else we couch our concerns in language of anxiety, of FOMO. Our obligations are now to our bucket list or country count.

Right now, I am planning a trip to Greece, to Athens and to several islands in the Cyclades. While I have no strong desire to go to Santorini, there is always the feeling that I ought to go, that it’s a place not to be missed, that were I to tell someone I went to the Greek islands and skipped Santorini, they might think me strange or in some way deficient.

I try to forget about all of those concerns when I travel, but inevitably the feeling of obligation makes itself known. The obligatory feelings are often followed closely by ones of rebellion. “I will make it a point not to go, precisely because of the feeling that I ought to go.” And there I am, trapped in a web of expectations.

I really do try to forget about all of this, but as the saying goes, “wherever you go, there you are.” This was definitely true the first time I visited Florence, having brought to Italy all of the pre-conceived notions stemming from a lifetime surrounded by Italian pastiche: red sauce pasta served on a checkered tablecloth, houses fashioned to look like “Italian” villas, Staten Island.

I did not like Florence when I first arrived looking for the authentic Italy. I heard nothing but English being spoken on the way from the train station to my pensione. Turns out that Florence is home to a very popular study abroad program and the area I stayed that first night was full of American college students.

Luckily, all of that changed the following day when I woke up and ventured to other parts of the city. All of my fears that Italy might be one big tourist trap fell away almost instantly and I was in love with the place. I even managed to have an easy time seeing David, as I spotted two women in line whom I had met on the train in France several days earlier. We had all gotten off in Nice and I spent a day there before continuing on to Rome. They had gone to Cannes and maybe Cinque Terra, if I remember correctly.

2.

There are three Davids in Florence. If you have only one day to spend there, you could do worse than to organize your day around them. Start early at the Accademia to see the original. There is no point to saving it. It is an experience that doesn’t depend on anything that came before or will come after, though if you’ve noticed one of the replicas first you may have a slightly higher appreciation of the original.

Coming out of the Accademia, it’s a straight shot down the street to Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, known colloquially as the Duomo. Both the cathedral and the adjacent baptistry are clad in distinctive green and white marble. Climb to the top of the dome and view the city from Brunelleschi’s cupola.

With both David and the Duomo out of the way early, you can leisurely stroll the city on the north side of the Arno river. You can walk south towards the Arno River and meander through the Piazza della Republica where there is a carousal, a craft market, and some of Florence’s smartest hotels. You can see the replica of David in the Piazza della Signoria, where the original once stood, and visit the Palazzo Vecchio..

Do see the Uffizi and its treasures of Italian Renaissance painting. The view of the building from the Piazzale degli Uffizi is almost as iconic as the art inside the gallery.

When done on the north side, cross one of the bridges to the south. Walk across the famous Ponte Vecchio with its gold shops. Or cross on the river by the adjacent St. Trinity Bridge, which affords a great view of the Ponte Vecchio. Either one will take you to a street leading to the imposing façade of the Pitti Palace. Depending on the time, you may wish to have lunch at one of the many trattorias on the south side of the Arno. Then treat yourself to a post-meal stroll through the Boboli Gardens behind the Pitti.

After that, a siesta may be in order. Relax, you’ve earned it. But I suggest that you rouse yourself before it gets too late and make your way to the Piazzale de Michelangelo, where the third replica of David stands. From there you can watch the sunset. Depending on the time of year, it may set directly over the Duomo.

Wherever the sun sets, enjoy it. Bring a bottle of local wine to enhance the experience.

I don’t know if that first sunset I watched from the Piazzale was the most beautiful sunset that I had seen to that point. But it was the first sunset that I remember explicitly appreciating as a beautiful sunset. It was a sublime moment, one when I was both fully in the moment and fully appreciative of it as a moment.

In an old photo album, I have pictures from that trip. They were snapped with a disposable camera. Among those pictures are three shots from the Piazzale Michelangelo that fit together in a makeshift panorama. This was one of the first times I realized that a picture of the sunset is not the sunset. It can’t come close to fully capturing the experience. But it can be evocative.

This is not Rene Magritte’s painting of what is not a pipe.

3.

Rene Magritte is one of my favorite painters, partly because his surrealism is so inextricably tied to his realism. Magritte was Belgian. He has little overt connection to the Italian Renaissance, at least none that I am aware. But “The Treachery of Images” has always been a sort of motto for me.

Things are what they are. Florence is a city. David is a statue. But things are also what they are not. Magritte’s painting of a pipe is a painting, but it is not a pipe. In seeing David, I finally understood this metaphorical point. The replicas of David are not David. Only David is David.

For the most part, I reject both FOMO and reverse FOMO. I have been to Cairo and not yet seen the Pyramids. I have been to Paris several times, but never been to the Louvre. I don’t say this with any pride. I intend to correct both of these omissions. And while I do want to go to the Louvre, if I don't see the Mona Lisa when I do, it will be no great loss. I may go to Santorini this summer. I also may not. Either way, I will try not to think about it too much.

An interesting fact: Samuel Johnson never went to Italy.

David is the perfect metaphor for our contemporary situation. We can experience all the world has to offer from a screen, so what does the in-person experience add? The truth is that there is no one answer. You have to see things for yourself and figure it out. Just remember that what you encounter will be largely a projection of what you bring.

Wherever you go, there you are.

Go and see David for yourself. Or maybe don’t. Maybe spend those 20 euros on something else. In truth, if I had never seen David, I would be equally OK with it. You don't have to see David. But if you do, then expect to be rewarded for your 20 euros.