“The View from the Pew”

May 1, 2024

I don’t know about you, but sometimes my Apple Watch seems sarcastic. Maybe I’m too sensitive. Take things too personally. But, it seems to make fun of me. Like after one of my golf swings . . . which I admit are not what you might call “fluid” these days . . . it vibrates and asks, “Have you fallen?”, and offers to summon help.

And like tonight. Sometimes I look at the damn thing and type, “Ya think?”

Tonight, Cathy and I returned to the Hotel Relais Santa Croce. Plopped down into the overstuffed leather chairs in the “Music Room” (where back in the fifteenth century, the treasurer to the Pope would entertain guests), and shared a couple of adult beverages. She had a variation on her go-to Prosecco. I went with my fall back White Ukrainian. It was a big day.

I’m wrestling with several themes tonight, but let’s start with “big.” I had no idea how big things are in Florence. The doors are big.

The Duomo is big.

And David? Well . . .

You get the idea.

Next theme . . . leather.

There’s a lot of leather in Florence. Leather shops. Leather jackets. Leather skirts. Leather pants.

One of my favorite stops thus far on our trip has been to the Scuola del Cuoio, the leather working school on the back side of the Basilica Santa Croce. My dad used to work with leather. I know the smell. I know the tools. To watch the artisans work with the same hand tools my pop once used was very moving.

Cathy hit it off with one very cheerful craftsman who monogrammed a gift.

Next theme . . . food. When we asked the lovely woman who is one of the hotel managers how we might spend tomorrow after visiting the Uffizi (when it promises to rain), she suggested we find a place to sit, drink and eat.

This. . . I am good at.

For example, today the waiter at the Ristorante Tosca where we had a late lunch suggested I try the chocolate salami. I know. I wondered myself. How could the Italians combine the two things I love eating the most? What dark Tuscan magic was at work here?

Cathy could only look on and wonder herself. She looks skeptical, doesn’t she. No doubt awed by my bravery with a fork.

Fortified, there remained one final conquest. The climb.

Now the Brunelleschi Pass we bought cautions that visitors who wish to go to the top of the Dome are “required” . . . that seems a bit harsh . . . “to climb 463 steps” . . . that seems a bit excessive . . . and goes on to say, “. . . the climb is strongly NOT recommended for people with cardiovascular, respiratory diseases and vertigo.“

Check, check and check. The Brunelleschi Trifecta.

Cathy and I discuss it and decide after my Parky paranoia on the footbridge in the Valle Verzasca it might be best to pass. We pull up a helpful YouTube video, confirm the spiral portions have no handrail, and decide, that as the video suggests, we can bail once inside the church, sit in a pew and watch the young and foolhardy take our place in the line.

I text my daughter, who was concerned, to reassure her that . . . although her dad generally tries to avoid sensible behavior . . . she need not worry. We’re pew bound only. She’s relieved.

Uhhhh, Kate? Funny thing . . .

Don’t be mad . . . but it turns out Cathy and are maybe a bit. . . just a bit . . . prone to peer pressure. Well, not peers. Actually, people half our age. Okay, maybe younger. Anyway, they were very nice, showed us how to bar scan our ticket and . . . before you know it . . . we’re climbing stairs.

Talk about upward mobility.

The view was . . . what’s the word? . . . breathtaking.

Funny thing I’ve noticed on this trip. People are generally solicitous of our age. Traffic (sometimes) stops for us. The doorman is quick to open the door. Cab drivers are quick to help with a bag.

And kind young people . . . who last saw us hesitant at the foot of the climb .. . . actually applauded when we emerged from the trap door onto the viewing deck.

All and all, the view from the pew was spectacular.