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Click here for the Introduction.
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Photo taken from Plaza
Michelangelo. Plaza Duomo (Santa
Maria del Fiore's
red dome) in the distance.
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10 - miles, Wednesday, October 12
I hit a parked
car this morning.
I looked up and
the vehicle was dangerously close. My right front pannier caught
first, jerking it off the rack. Then the bar end scraped across the
trunk top. My leg slammed into the bumper. I jolted to a stop,
catching myself from falling into the heavy traffic. Egads. My heart
thumped in my chest. I couldn't believe what just happened. In a
second my leg began throbbing. I grabbed the dislodged pannier and
somehow hobbled to the sidewalk.
I'd been
following Andy through morning traffic along narrow streets. Andy
said he'd heard the crash and had doubled back. Thankfully, I can
walk. My leg doesn't seem too bad, but bruised for sure. The
low-rider rack is warped, now listing left of center, but
nonetheless, functional. The pannier is fine; it had unhooked and the
hardware is still intact.
We discreetly
checked the damaged vehicle. I had scratched the black paint.
Immediately I was inclined to contact the owner, but there was the
language barrier, time, and money. I could only imagine the hassle.
The pannier and my leg took the brunt of impact. It really was just a
scratch. Fortunately we hadn't attracted any attention. Probably not
a huge deal in the scope of Italian driving. Andy and I decided to
leave. I was still shaking though, and regained the road with
caution.
Privately, I
think this is Anne's guerrilla tactic of hitting the enemy when
their defenses are down-unmanned parked cars. We feel vulnerable on
the road. Cars cut our margin of safety. In cities, add parked car
doors opening in front of us and our stress climaxes. After the
accident, Anne was shaky, giving parked vehicles 8 feet of clearance.
-Andy
Not
long after, Andy suggested we stop for pastry. We nursed my
confidence over a couple apple strudels, relaxing until I could rejoin the wits-about-you harried traffic. Then it was off
to the rail station, and after shuffling through 3 lines we bought
tickets for tomorrow evening's train to Rome. Rail travel with bicycles is
reasonable, which is a good sign as we'll need another connection in
southern Italy.
Florence
is similar to other Italian cities: bustling, congested, noisy,
designed on a narrow street plan it accommodates – just barely –
all the traffic. A frenzy of cars, buses, trucks, mopeds, scooters,
and bikes all vie for limited asphalt space, which must drive anyone
negotiating the streets, a little crazy. Though I was still leery of
traffic, by the time we navigated to the campground, I had shed any
reluctance at leaving the scene of the accident.
We
left the bikes double-locked at the campsite, a pleasing place with
olive trees, conveniently on a hillside overlooking the heart of
Florence. There were red-tiled roofs and white stucco walls as far as
the eye could see. It was good to be on foot.
Florence
is situated on the Arno River. First, we wandered along the ridge to
Plaza Michelangelo to orient ourselves with the map and views of the
city below. Then descended stairs and curved roads to Pont Vecchio,
the only bridge Hitler's army didn't bomb upon retreat. It's a
multistory stone structure with goldsmith shops at street level.
Sculling crews ply the waterway as we entered the heart of Florence,
wandering the promenade.
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| Replica of Michelangelo's David. |
Streets
are very narrow. It's a profusion of 4-5 story buildings. Top floors
are homes, often with laundry hung from special racks beneath
windows. There are old churches, palaces, and museums. Many overlook
their own plazas; this space allows us to grasp the magnitude and
charm of the lovely marble structures. I spy Michelangelo's replica
of David outside a museum, but we bypass the chance to visit the real
statue and art gallery inside. There are so many alleys to drift
through that I don't want to be stuck inside for too long.
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| Plaza Duomo. We climbed to the top of the red dome. |
The
Plaza Duomo is the highlight of our day. We explore the 800 year old
Baptistery of Saint John church then discover we can ascend Santa
Maria del Fiore's enormous red dome. For 5,000 Lira each we duck into
a short passageway and climb 463 worn stone steps, spiraling up the
“exterior” of the dome. It's a bit claustrophobic, yet somehow
the coolness of the stone is inviting. At the top we exit to a
balcony for sweeping views. Giotto's Bell Tower, a square edifice
with numerous windows and statues, is marvelously close - an
enchanting vantage from this height.
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| Andy at the top of the dome. |
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| Special view of Giotto's Bell Tower. My favorite picture of Florence. |
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| Descending the worn stairway inside the dome. |
Other insights by Andy:
Interesting
Italian feature: two machine gun guards stand outside bank entrances.
Apparently, mafia problems are dealt with seriously. I don't want to
be around when those guns go off.
- 6 a.m.
Breakfast of polenta or oatmeal with fruit, coffee, maybe bread.
- Mid-morning –
bread and jam or margarine, yogurt and/or fruit
- 11 -12 Lunch
– bread, jam, cheese. Fruit and/or yogurt
- Mid-afternoon
– bread or cookies
- 5-6 p.m.
Dinner – pasta with tomato or pesto sauce, vegetables
(onion,garlic, spinach) tea or coffee
- Late evening
– snack, if still hungry.
Picked up the
Herald Tribune today for our dose of international news. There's a
major news story of renewed U.S.-Iraq sword rattling. During the Gulf
War I recall U.S. launched airstrikes from Turkey too. That's of
growing concern. We hope to travel to Turkey in a few weeks. -Andy
