Ramble

It’s a sunny morning. I decide on a lengthy stroll following what’s left of Florence’s medieval city wall (visible in this 15th c. view - click to see larger). Roads that link the few still standing towers and gates follow its former path.



I walk east along the Arno River to reach the first tower. This one stands ignored adjacent to a parking lot and a roadway. What would a 13th c. guard think looking down and seeing 21st c. cars buzz around his tower as if it were simply in the way. Another is visible looking across the Arno.



Turning left, I headed toward a gate along Viale Giovane Italia, which is nothing like the skinny roads where I’m living. This is a wide busy tree lined boulevard with upscale businesses and apartments on both sides.



In little less than a mile, I come to the first gate. A monolithic brute of a thing in the middle of Piazza C. Beccaria. The piazza is a grand rotary with curved building edifices containing stores and restaurants around its perimeter. The gate is the center of attraction, with people strolling through the massive opening.



I snap a few photos and stop for a bite. Standing at the counter (it’s just eat and run in snack bars, so no need for stools) I enjoy a pastry with lemon creme filling and a caffe latte (espresso with milk). Ready to pay at the register, I’m confronted with a line of people buying lottery tickets (sound familiar?). My server is kind enough to take my two Euro. “Grazie,” I say, and she responds with, “Prego.” I’m becoming quite fluent with a couple of new Italian words.

Heading north toward the second gate, the boulevard continues as before, but the sky is threatening and there is a sudden cool breeze to my neck. The distance between the two gates is about ½ mile and the sky opens just as I approach. This gate is also in a piazza (della Liberta), where I duck under a broad portico until the down-burst abates. It is similar to the previous gate, but the proportions are slightly different with a larger opening. Again, I’m struck by the incongruence of this medieval structure in the center of rushing automobiles.



The last leg takes me by an old fort, Fortezza Da Basso, standing in ghostly guard of Florence’s modern train depot. In a ramble of a few miles, I had traversed the edge of medieval Florence along its protective city wall.



Even with today's permeable borders easily crossed by cars and airplanes, we live with the same fear of what and who lurks beyond the gates. I’m a little wet from the insistent drizzle, so make a mental note to take my umbrella when the forecast is for showers, even if the sun is shining.


On my way home, I stop in a market and purchase some Mozzarella and fresh basil to have on bread, as Ben suggested while IMing the night before. I’m looking forward to a delicious lunch and a rejuvenating siesta.