If Rome is known for its churches, Milan for its banks, and Venice for its canals, Florence would be best known for its art. The Accademia and Uffizi galleries, both located in Florence, are the metaphorical Louvres of Italy; their selections of Michelangelo, Donatello, Da Vinci, and works by other masters are among the best in the world.
In 2014, Ryan and I "did" the Louvre together: We walked in, found the wing with the Mona Lisa, took photos from the back of a claustrophobically crowded room of a block of canvas much smaller than you'd expect, given its name and reputation. After about a dozen photos each, we nodded to each other, left that wing of the Louvre, took one selfie with a painting of a particularly sassy-looking Jesus, and ended up at the Apple Store beneath the museum because free WiFi.
That was us "doing" the Louvre.
Ryan is much more of a museum-goer than I am.* I'm perfectly content walking through an art museum at a pace only slightly slower than a typical stroll through the street (this pace speeds up in modern art museums, which I struggle with), but Ryan could stand and read each and every dedicated plaque, description, and brochure available if given the time.
* Exhibit A: Our first two dates were at an art and a science museum, respectively. His choice, not mine.
So we decided to meet in the middle for our dedicated "Accademia + Uffizi" day and purchased two three-hour personal tours through the museums. Although we met Joanna--who has lived in Florence for 16 years and whose background centers around Italian art--outside the Accademia Gallery long before it opened, lines were already snaking their way down both ends of the street. Joanna got us to the front of every line, led us from 14th century icons to a long train of unfinished sculptures by Michelangelo, explained the David's every awe-inspiring detail, and then led us through the streets of central Florence. We saw Orsanmichele, a 1337 grain market that slowly transformed into a place of worship over the years (while still maintaining its dedication to grain storage and retrieval). We saw the Basilica di Santa Trinita, learned about centuries of Medici scheming and drama, and ended by a wall of the Uffizi gallery that was raked with snaking cracks, damaged bricks, and missing plaster. A single olive tree was planted at the foot of the wall as a symbol of peace and resilience after the Mafia set off a car bomb on that exact same day, 24 years ago. It was the Mafia's attempt to damage the Italian state's successful tourist economy, particularly after Italy made a strong statement against the Mafia only weeks before.
We had a few hours to rest between tours, so we set out to Mangia Pizza, whose windowed walls had been folded aside to welcome in the nice weather. We sat right on the narrow street, eating the best pizza we had during our time in Italy (I say "we" because even Ryan, pizza aficionado, agrees with this statement), and set off again for the Uffizi. Sashia spent the afternoon taking us through galleries of Michelangelo and Da Vinci, of ancient Roman statues and newer bronze sculptures, of medieval frescoes and mannerist interpretations of the (already dead) renaissance. I finally understand why Botticelli's Primavera and Birth of Venus are such famous works of art, and we were lucky to see a newly restored work by Da Vinci depicting the Adoration. The Uffizi spent the past six years carefully removing centuries of soot and grime from his unfinished painting, revealing new colors, figures, and interpretations that no one had been able to distinguish before. It wasn't unveiled to the public until this past March, and is now one of the main attractions in the gallery.
We finished the day with one of my favorite dinners in Italy, and--hands down--Ryan's least favorite. His exact notes for this part of the blog entry read: "Ryan gets some weird calzone with Fry's ham and hot dogs" and, well, that's exactly what happened. A foot-long Subway sandwich came out under the false advertisement of "salame e olive calzone," stuffed with pieces of uncooked cheese, chopped (and seemingly uncooked) hot dog, pieces of deli ham, and black olives straight out of a can. I, on the other hand, had mind-blowing caprese and spinach-stuffed meatballs, so I can't complain. We sat on the sidewalk of a winding street only feet from where it emptied out into a piazza, so we spent the hours watching the milling crowds.