Tag Archives: Duomo

Day 3 – Gambassi Terme to San Gimignano – shorter, but still non-trivial

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Wednesday 14 May 2025 – The very basic nature of our hostel accommodation was heavily borne in on us as we went down to breakfast. The tables had been set out with places allocated by name – and those before us had clearly completely ignored all this and there were basically no untouched places left for us to sit at; also, all the bread had been taken and not replaced, the kettle was nearly empty and the kitchen was locked. This was a very poor show, we thought. We’d arranged an 8am start between us and the many people who had exited earlier had swept through the buffet like a plague of locusts. It would have been a good idea to have someone on duty in the kitchen to help with replacement fodder. We organised tea and I had some cereal, but there was little there for Caroline or Jane to eat.

It’s an attractive enough setting

round the back of a 12th-Century church just outside Gambassi Terme,

but one feels it could be better run.

Off we went, then, at about 0830, into a morning in which the fog was just clearing. The Via Francigena signs pointed us towards Gambassie Terme, but the S-cape app’s red line bypassed the place.  We followed the line, and so I’m afraid I can’t tell you what the town was like. “Terme”, by the way, means it was a spa town.

The profile for the day (let me remined you here)

showed us going down from Gambassi Terme, then up about 300m overall (ugh!) before descending once more before a gentle rise up to San Gimignano. We started on tarmac before heading off on a dirt road

which led past an intriguing sign.

The scenery was, as before, lovely.

and I was particularly taken with the “stripy corduroy” effect achieved in some patches of vines.

The Chianti sign enigma was explained a little further on, as we passed an attractive winery.

It offered stamps for our “credenziali” (passports for the route) and the sign outside said it was open. But I think it was kind of Spanish open, i.e. closed. So we moved on, but in researching the name later, I learned a little to supplement my non-existent understanding of Italian wine. The Chianti region is in central Tuscany, with Chianti Classico being the area between Florence and Siena. This winery might produce Classico, or possibly Chianti Colli Senesi, which is regional to San Gimignano. Classico must be at least 80% Sangiovese grape variety, other variants of Chianti must be at least 70%.

We were on the down stretch of the walk, but soon reached the bottom, by another fine-looking establishment

which turned out to be a newly-opened agriturismo outfit called La Torre. At this point, the uphill work starts.

It was a long uphill pull, at times quite steep – but at least a lot of it was in the shade, which made it a lot less unpleasant than yesterday’s toil.

We passed a horse-riding centre (calling itself “Via Francigena”, so presumably offering people the chance to ride part of the route)

one of whose dogs accompanied us quite a way carrying a ball

but it didn’t want to part with it, so clearly wasn’t a retriever.

The steep uphill work continued for a while

but at least offered us great views of where we had earlier been descending.

We passed some handsome buildings

many of which seemed to be some kind of agriturismo setup, but none of which could actually be arsed to set up a coffee stop for thirsty passing pilgrims (of which it had to be said, there was a steady trickle).

We passed through a village, Pancole, which also had no coffee stops, but it did have a sanctuary.

We couldn’t, sadly, explore it because it was in use; a mass was about to start for a congregation seemingly made up of the local elderly and infirm – lots of ambulances and taxis outside – they didn’t invite us in, though.

We followed the road a little further until we could see San Gimignano in the distance; it didn’t seem to be much higher than we were, so I thought that perhaps the worst of the climb was over.

Wrongly, as it turned out. The Via signposts took us on to a track which carried on steeply uphill. In the spirit of proper completion, we grimly ploughed on and up, past more handsome buildings (but no coffee stops)

until we (a) got a good glimpse of our destination, San Gimignano

and (b) reached the highest point of the walk, marked by the Monasterio de Cellole.

In the inevitable way of these things, our route then led us down to a very poorly-designed road which led further down before going up into San Gimignano. One would have hoped the designers would have worked out some way of keeping it level for us poor pilgrims, but no. However, there was a consolation and a distraction because the views were, as before, stupendous. It was occasionally possible to catch a nice vignette of the countryside

but by and large it’s too big to fit into a single photo.


Eventually, we toiled up into San Gimignano, which is, you guessed it, very steep in places, mainly up

as we had to get to our hotel, Hotel La Cisterna, which is in the town’s main square, i.e. the highest point. Before you boys at the back start any schoolboy giggles, the name is nothing lavatorial. “Cisterna” in Italian means “Well”, which is more than one can say for the current US President, and you can see the well right in front of our hotel.

Our run of luck, of hotels being ready for us, continued, and our baggage had arrived, so, it being only about 1pm by this stage, we could swiftly get hosed down and changed and head out for a decent lunch, which we took just round the corner at a bar/cafe called Torre Guelfa.

After lunch, we were all feeling a siesta coming on, so had a quick look at the Duomo

and found out its opening hours for a later expedition for some sightseeing and gelato. We were intrigued by one gelato shop

which had the most extraordinary queue. It’s not as if it was the only one in town, so we decided it would clearly bear research later, when the crowds had dissipated. We also decided to visit one very interesting museum that Jane had found, to make sure we got to it before it closed.

It’s a beautiful recreation of how San Gimignano – “The City of Towers” – would have looked in medieval times. At one stage there were over a hundred towers in the town, mainly built by people to show off. 14 remain, and you can see some of them in the photos on this page.

Siesta over, we ventured out once more with our main objective being ice-cream a visit to the cathedral.  It is a well-recommended activity, and costs only €5 to get in. I wasn’t sure what to expect from such a highly-touted place, but there was a tiny clue as we headed for the entrance.

What you see, on walking in, is remarkably impactful. The interior of the church is liberally covered with frescoes and it made a huge impression on me.

It’s not an intimate space for communing with God, but it has a certain majesty about it.

Here’s a gallery of some of the photos I took to try to convey what the interior looks like.

After that, ice-cream seemed to be a good thing, so we went back to that popular shop

where the queue had died down a bit, and we could see the staggering variety of ice-cream they offered.

We consumed ours whilst sitting on the Duomo steps, and after that a drink seemed a necessity. We were heading for the Terraza outside our hotel when Jane suggested we walk down a side alley to a punto panoramico that (as it happens) our hotel bedroom looks out on. This was a good move.

There is a little enoteca in the Cisterna square called Divinorum, and it has a back door that offers a fantastic view in the afternoon sunshine.

A drink there in the last of the sunshine set us up nicely for a reasonably early night in preparation for the morrow.

Tomorrow’s walk is about the same length as today’s was, but should be a little less arduous. We have to get to Colle Val d’Elsa and the S-cape app describes the walk as “one of the most beautiful routes on the Via Francigena”. So we can look forward to something much nicer than the humdrum views we’ve been subjected to so far, eh?

Aiming for Pisa mind

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Friday 9 May 2025 – Our target today was to get to Pisa, meet our friend Caroline, who will be joining us for some of our walk on the Via Francigena, and meet a guide at 3pm in order to have a guided tour. We weren’t quite sure of what; of course there’s the famous leaning tower*, but the guide was due to meet us at the hotel, which was some 15 minutes walk from the site of the tower. Was there anything else worth seeing in the town of Pisa apart from the tower? In the end, it didn’t matter, as you’ll find out of you stay with me, here.

To get to Pisa, we took the train, buying tickets online from TrenItalia for a very reasonable €9.30, and finding that one could add them to Google wallet – overall a very neat way of handling the ticket. Then we hefted our cases down the really rather awkward steps leading from the hotel to the ground floor and trundled them, a ten minute walk, to the station.

Inside, it was what a supercilious Brit might call a typical Italian scene – mobs of people all trying to get somewhere else through the press surrounding the departure info board.

Apart from people getting in my fucking way all the time, getting to the train was fine and the rest of the journey proceeded uneventfully for an hour, until we detrained at Pisa. The platform was black with people, but we eventually found our way out to the station forecourt and trundled our bags a further ten minutes to the Hotel Bologna, where, delightfully, both Caroline and our room were waiting for us.

We spent a few minutes sorting ourselves out and then joined Caroline on an expedition to seek coffee. Since we were due to see the tower that afternoon, we didn’t see much point in heading that way, but somehow seemed inexorably to be approaching it. We passed a small but delightfully gothic church, of Santa Maria della Spina,

before crossing the river (the Arno, which also flows through Florence) which offers quite a nice vista,

looking for somewhere to serve us coffee. Having got on one side of the botanical gardens, we couldn’t deviate from the path that was leading us towards the site of the tower, but eventually managed to make a right turn, which led us to a street with lots of restaurants and bars.

We stopped at the first place that looked like it might serve us coffee. By this stage, as I say, we were quite near the campus where the leaning tower is located. The tower is not the only building there; I vaguely remembered from a previous visit, some 23 years ago, that there was a church there, too. From a distance, it looked like there was a decent amount of restoration work going on

and I hoped that  this wouldn’t detract from our visit later.

After coffee and a couple of drinks, we decided that it must be lunchtime, and so went in search of somewhere appealing to eat. The street we were on was wall-to-wall restaurants, but they all seemed to have pictures of food outside them, and we are followers of the A A Gill gospel that says any restaurant displaying pictures of their food is best avoided. On a side road, we eventually stumbled across Grano Libero Ristorante senza Glutine, which just seemed to emit the right sort of vibes, so we settled in for some lunch.

And a very fine lunch it was (even though they didn’t have gin). The gluten-free bread they served was really excellent, and vastly superior to any GF bread I’ve ever sampled. We had a plentiful lunch of excellent meats, cheeses and vegetable-based dishes. It would have been nonsensical to walk back to the hotel to meet our guide, so Jane contacted her and arranged that we should meet by the tower.

During my last visit, the tower was closed to visitors because the Powers That Be were worried that the leaningness might imminently turn into falling downness. So I was really hoping that the restorative work that had been carried out over the last quarter century would allow us to climb the tower. As we approached, the auguries were hopeful.

We arrived at the site

and, prompt at 3pm, met the delightful Ilaria, who was to be our guide. It was immediately clear that she knew a vast amount about the history of Pisa. She showed us a map, similar to the one below, which highlighted the historic walls of Pisa.

I hadn’t known about the walls, or indeed much of the history of the place at all.  On the map above, our hotel was just south the the river, and the site of the tower, the Piazza del Duomo, is some 15 minutes brisk walk from the hotel. So you can see that this historic Piazza is really very small, and formed only a tiny part of the original city. But, tiny as it is, Ilaria was able to spend three hours giving us an engaging, intensive and educational tour round it.

The site has basically five buildings: the cathedral (consecrated 1118), the baptistry (1363), the tower (started 1173, finished 1372 – long story), a cemetery (1277 – late 15th century) and a hospital (founded 1257, modified at times up to 20th century and now largely used for administrative purposes so we didn’t venture inside). Because it was due to close first, we started in the baptistry.

In contrast to the one in Florence, this is round, rather than octogonal, which was the conventional shape for a baptistry. But the republic of Pisa decided that they wanted a building that was larger than Florence’s – part of a pretty intense rivalry between the two cities. At one stage, Pisa was far richer and more powerful than Florence, but Florence eventually grew to the point where it usurped the power and the position as the principal city.

It has twin domes, actually – an open, conical one and, outside it, a more conventionally-shaped one. This is illustrated in drawings inside.

It’s a wonderful ambience inside the building, and one that can’t really be conveyed photographically.

The conical inner dome gives the place an amazing accoustic, which we were lucky enough to hear demonstrated by a singer,

Ilaria gave us a huge amount of information about details that can be seen in the building. I won’t bore you with too many of them (OK, I can’t remember them that well, either) but there are carvings of exquisite detail, such as these in the central font.

Some of the stained glass represents significant people, typically donors, but one stood out;

Pope John Paul II, of course.

After the baptistry, we went into the church. From my previous visit, I knew there was a church there, but I hadn’t realised what a wonderful facade it has.

Again, Ilaria provided huge amounts of information about the history and details that can be seen both on the outside and

the inside, which is very opulently appointed. The wooden ceiling was destroyed by fire, but was restored in gilded wood, largely with the help of money from the Medicis…

hence the Medici symbol on the coat of arms at the centre of the ceiling. There are many fine things to look at

and again Ilaria provided bewlidering amounts of detail on the history of the place and the provenance of the decor.

Our next visit was to the cemetery.

Along each side are galleries with what were once fine frescoes

but which have been badly affected by a fire caused by an accidental bombing by US forces during the second world war. The fire melted the lead in the roof, which destroyed much of the fresco work and scarred the marble floors; the ongoing restoration is a full time job for 30 people.

Above, you can see an example of the damaged fresco work as well as sarcophagi by the walls and tombs with identifying coats of arms on the floor.

Finally, Ilaria took us to the famous tower and gave us a short history of its construction. It was built in three phases. Even after the first phase, it was clear that the tower was leaning, and the developers of the second and third phases took this into account as they added storeys to it.  The result is that the tower is not actually straight – it has a very subtle bend in it away from the direction it leans.

 

Again, it’s difficult to convey this photogaphically, but you might just be able to discern the bend in the photo above.

Ilaria also gave great detail about how the famous lean developed, shifted from left to right, became dangerous and was eventually tamed thanks to a proposed solution from an Englishman, John Burland, who suggested that the lean could be controlled by (carefully!) excavating the ground from underneath the tower. This was the solution which meant that the tower could be re-opened for people to visit it. So we did, of course. Caroline and I climbed the 251 steps, which run up the inside of the tower in a staircase just wide enough to accommodate two-way traffic. I have to say that it was quite a weird experience, as sometimes the steps tip you one way, sometimes the other; and the very final steps to the top are up a very much narrower spiral staircase, and are potentially quite trappy.

The tower is a bell tower, and there are still bells at the top, though it’s clear that there is no mechanism for ringing them.

There’s a decent view over the city of Pisa from the top,

but to view the church from the top required some awkward squinting into the sun

(Jane had decided not to climb the tower, and, sitting in the museum cafe, was able to take that photo of me trying to get this photo).

Since the tower is hollow, one can look up the central column, where a plumbline has been installed, to emphasis how much the tower leans.

Ilaria’s command of the details of the history and religious significance of the intricacies around the site was truly impressive; our time with her was very concentrated and I haven’t done it any kind of justice above; but I hope you get a flavour of the site.

We had only today in Pisa; tomorrow we travel on to Lucca, which has a reputation of being a very fine place to visit. I hope to be able to demonstrate that in these pages, so stay tuned to find out, eh?

* I couldn’t let this opportunity pass without reviving an old joke about a famous painting of a three-legged dog relieving himself against a lamppost. It was called “The Leaning Pee of Towser”. I’ll get my coat.

Florence in more depth

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Wednesday 7 May 2025 – Long Post Alert!

In what I suspect will be a relatively rare occurrence during this junket, we were allowed a lie-in to 7am before having to get under way for the day. The hotel offers a decent breakfast (meaning mainly that they have Earl Grey available) but in somewhat cramped conditions. No matter; at 0900 we were ready to meet our guide for the morning, Bianca.

She is clearly very knowledegable about Florence, its history and culture, and Jane very much enjoyed learning about Florence in more depth. Me, not so much; I had enormous difficulty penetrating Bianca’s very Italian delivery and accent, particularly as it was often set against the backdrop of traffic, roadworks and many, many large tour groups.

The city was crowded today – there were plenty of tourists and schoolkids in large groups, making me suspect that at least one large cruise liner had berthed at Livorno, and that this was the time of year that schools favoured for an attempt to inject kulcher into the little ones. The practical upshot was that I didn’t get a great deal of extra information from our tour. However, Jane did, so collectively we learned a lot and got some photos of wonderful places that we might not have otherwise found.

I’m not a habitual, practised or skillful street photographer, but Florence offers some nice vignettes, if you’re not careful. I managed to get told off several times during the day: taking photos of art sellers, who clearly didn’t appreciate  being photographed;

and photos from some angles which caused people in uniform in key locations to tell me to move away from where I was.

Standing on the wrong side of a piece of rope to avoid too many TV aerials interfering with a nice view of the cathedral cupola

Standing on a bench to capture a better angle of the Pieta in the Cathedral museum

I also captured a couple of vignettes of interesting people who may or may not have been couples;

OK, back to the mainstream of the day. We visited lots of very attractive and photogenic places:

The Academy of Fine Arts (this is the exit – we didn’t go in)

The local equivalent of the UK’s Ordnance Survey…

…with its fetching observatory on the roof

The Piazza della Santissima Annunziata – the Annunziata Church is on the left; on the right a hospital for foundlings

Annunziata Square (2)

The Annunziata Square was recommended by the driver who picked us up at the airport yesterday; he described it as “cute”, which is not, I think, the right word.  It’s a handsome square all right, featuring a particular Florentine architectural characteristic – the pillars and arches. The pillars form a cube which is of a consistent dimension wherever it’s used; and the arches form a hemisphere above the cube. The cube’s exact dimensions are based on an exact number of standard “forearm” measurements, documented elsewhere in the city;

 

each “forearm” is 56.83cm in length. This, by the way, is longer than my forearm by quite some margin, so I have no idea how they arrived at 56.83cm as “normal”.

One can see from the square to the Duomo, which makes the scene a favourite for wedding photographs.

A less appealing feature of the Annunziata Square is this:

The cloths hanging there are are a reminder of the prevalence of domestic violence in Italy. Each cloth represents the death, through domestic violence, of one woman – this year!

Inside the entrance of the Annunziata Church is a splendid cloister.

around the walls of which are some lovely artworks.

Outside the church is an arch

which contains a corridor, built for a lady of the Medici family who was severely disabled so that she could get to services in the church without having to negotiate stairs or other difficulties.

The buildings in the environs of the cathedral featured wine cellars, which were somewhat below street level. It was A Thing to greet cellar workers and ask for a glass of wine, which could be delivered once money had changed hands. This practice gave rise to “wine windows”

whereby one knocked on the door to gain attention, and a glass of wine could be served directly. A little further along was a similar-looking niche

but one too small to accommodate a wine bottle. This one originally had a wire and a pulley to allow the lowering of a lamp so it could be lit before being hauled back into place.

We were by this time adjacent to the cathedral, and Bianca took us round the building, telling us about some of the background to the details. One of the world’s largest churches, with the dome still the largest masonry dome ever constructed, all but the dome was complete by 1380, with the dome itself completed in 1436.

The extraordinary external decoration, in polychrome marble, was begun in the 14th century but not completed until 1887!

In the triangle, the Virgin Mary is depicted in an almond shape called a “mandorla” which is a symbol of the intersection between the divine and the human

 

Shields in the facade representing the families who gave funds towards its creation

Panels on the campanile (bell tower) tell the story of the creation: God creating Adam and Eve, here

More campanile panels showing the development of civilisation – science, construction, medicine and so forth

The amount of symbolism among the detail of the decor of the cathedral and campanile is utterly extraordinary. It’s clear that it takes a lot of work to maintain it; a gang was at work with a specially-developed cherry-picker

examining every single piece of marble by tapping it to make sure it is secure.

Our next major stop was the Palazzo Vecchio – the old palace – but en route we passed a vendor of street food

Tripe sandwiches a speciality!

and a modern Florentine craftsman – not a worker in wood of stone, but in metal.

Penko is one of the world’s most skillful goldsmiths – his work in gold and silver is exquisite.

Jane and I had passed the Palazzo Vecchio yesterday, noting it as an impressive slab of masonry; but Bianca took us inside, to an astonishing interior:

The coat of arms you can see in the above is the Medici coat of arms, demonstrating the power and influence they had in the development of the city.

Near the Palazzo Vecchio is the Accademia Gallery, which famously houses Michaelangelo’s statue of David. We weren’t about to join the long queue to see the real thing, but luckily there’s a copy outside the Palazzo Vechio. Jane took a photo of his bum, but I preferred a less prurient view

The David was originally intended to be mounted high on the cathedral for people to gaze up at

yes, on the stone just peeking above the screening; getting the perspective right for this location is said to be why the proportions of David are not quite “right” (although his bum appears to be perfectly well-formed, I’m told). Nearby is the Loggia dei Lanzi, a sort of open air sculpture gallery;  the Perseus with the Medusa head by Benvenuto Cellini is a notable example.

Bianca then led us down towards the Ponte Vecchio, via another “Tree of Life” sculpture by Roggi

which was commissioned to commemorate those killed in a Mafia car-bombing outrage on this spot in 1993. Nearby, on the outside of a neighbouring building, is another sculpture in tribute to heroism as a reaction to the bombing.

You’ll have seen yesterday’s photos of Ponte Vecchio, of course you have, but Bianca pointed out something that actually in theory I knew about but which I hadn’t noticed: the Medici Corridor. This is an extraordinary construction which allowed Grand Duke Cosimo I de Medici  to make his way from Palazzo Vecchio to Pitti Palace (south of the river, remember) – without touching the ground or, perish the thought, being seen in public. It runs right through the upper floor of the Uffizi Gallery, crosses over the road via the arch you see here,

goes along the upper storey of the Ponte Vecchio

and round corners as necessary

to get to its destination – a distance of just under a kilometre. Interestingly, the construction of this corridor led to a major change in the usage of Ponte Vecchio, which was originally the site for butchers and tanners shops (using the river as a handy waste disposal) but this was too smelly for the Grand Duke, and so a law was passed – in force still today – to ensure that only jewellers may trade on Ponte Vecchio.

The Ponte Vecchio was the only bridge over the Arno to be spared by the wartime German bombing campaign. No-one knows exactly why; although they didn’t destroy the bridge itself they blocked access to it by bombing at each end, which explains the modern and ugly buildings to be seen close to either end of the bridge.

Bianca’s final offering was to take us to another church, still south of the river – Santa Felicita

which features in it an artwork depicting Christ being taken down from the cross.

It’s by Jacopo Pontormo, entitled The Deposition, an example of 16th century “Mannerist” style, which I invite you to look up for yourselves, By this stage, whilst being grateful for all the great things we’d seen and photographed, I found that my brain was full and my stomach was empty. So I for one was grateful when she left us at a recommended pizzeria, Casella 18, where we had a Nice Lunch. I recommend the Pizza Diavola (note the correct gendering here – British Diavolo pizzas have been misgendered for years).

Refreshed, we decided that we should attempt to get inside various parts of the cathedral complex, as we are gluttons for punishment as well as pizza. Amazingly, we managed to get tickets to go into the cathedral, the baptistry and the museum. We got them in a rather random fashion; looking for the ticket office, we stumbled across a helpful young lady who said that things were mainly sold out but the her colleague over there could sort us out a ticket for only 20 Euros each. Her colleague could indeed, but only for cash (which, remarkably, I had to hand). I thought at first that we were being conned, but no, it appeared to be legit.

Several astonishing moments then transpired: the enormous queues we had seen earlier evaporated; the fact that we were dressed in sandals was not, after all, a Dress Code Problem, and they didn’t mind me toting my penknife around with me inside any of these things. So we had a full house of cathedralness. First the main cathedral building, which is not, frankly, as awe-inspiring as one might have thought, given the outside, but it has some photogenic corners,

some nice marble flooring

with overtones of the almond shape,

some decent stained glass

and a wonderfully painted ceiling, a depiction of the Last Judgement, commissioned by Grand Duke Cosimo, on the inside of the cupola.

Actually, there was far more of a “wow” factor in the next-door Baptistry of Saint John. The origins of this building lie in the 11th or 12th centuries, although the remains of a large structure dating from Roman times lie beneath it.

The outside, principally white marble and green-black serpentinite, is not as exciting as the cathedral; but the inside is very eye-catching. Regrettably, the mosaic ceiling was under maintentance, so one couldn’t see the whole thing, which apparently looks like this;

Completed between towards the end of the 12th century, the ten million tesserae form Byzantine-style depictions of the lives of Joseph, Mary, Christ and John the Baptist, and the Last Judgement. We could see portions of it

outside the scaffolding

and other details of the building were simply wonderful,

and the marble floor tiling was lovely.

Our final stop was in the museum, which Jane particularly wanted to visit in order to see the “Florentine Pieta”, the scupture of Christ being taken down from the cross originally made by Michelangelo to decorate his own tomb. But first we had to find it, which involved bumbling around all three floors of a very museum-like building,

a

occasionally taking note of details such as replicas of the Adam and Eve panels from the campanile

and various important doors,

and, in my case, being shouted at for crossing a rope to take a photo. In the end, all that climbing stairs was wasted, as the sculpture of Christ being taken from the cross by Nicodemus (whose face is considered to be a self-portrait), Mary and Mary Magdalene, was in a separate room on the ground floor, where I was admonished for standing on a bench to get a better angle. But here it is again

to round off a longish, satisfying and content-rich day. I apologise for the profusion of photos, but hope that, even if you got bored and skipped a few, you got an impression of the richness of art and architecture throughout the city. Since the plan is to visit the Uffizi Gallery tomorrow, there wil be even more, so brace yourselves!