May 10, 2010
A rather grey morning greeted us, but soon it turned clear and
promising. Derek ran out to pick up la collazione - our breakfast, which consisted of fresh strawberries and sweet Italian croissants.
The first stop on our itinerary was about 100 metres away at the Duomo. We went in and explored a little, and it wasn't long before the girls asked when we could climb la cuppola - the dome. Sixteen Euros later we were making our way up the narrow stone stairs to the top. The girls practically flew up the stairs, with Derek and I trying to keep up the pace. Luckily there is a built-in break about half way up (Maia counted over 150 steps in that first part). The large room has old statues that we looked at before heading up the next set of stairs, which were spiral instead of squared and mercifully went in
the opposite direction (I was getting dizzy). The view was spectacular. We got to see the frescoes on the ceiling up close and
had the bonus of seeing those that are only visible from the chancel, which is closed off from the public down below. The scenes depicted are those of hell, and they are as grotesque a scene as I've ever witnessed. The balcony that goes all the way around is narrow and spectators are protected from a plunge by 2 metre high plexiglass. I'd forgotten how much Derek hates heights until we reached the exit about half way around the circle, and I heard his sigh of relief immediately
followed by a groan of despair when he saw the next set of stairs - not going down, but bringing us ever higher. And we climbed some more until we reached the base of the dome and its frescoes. The view of the art was well worth the price of admission, even if we were a little rushed by the German couple behind us who wanted to move along; there is no passing allowed - even if you wanted to.
Next stop was to be at the Palazzio Vecchio, the old ducal palace, for a tour designed for children complete with tour guides in period costumes taking us through secret passageways. But the next one was set for 12:30 and we didn't want the kids to be cranky and hungry, so we went in search of lunch. We found some food but realized that we would have to wolf it down in order to make it on time. Instead, we enjoyed a leisurely lunch on the same church steps as we had sat on yesterday.
After wandering around a bit and visiting an Internet cafe, we headed back to the Palazzio Vecchio for the last tour. By this time the girls were very excited about the secret passageways. Derek inquired at the
ticket counter and after much back and forth he learned that the tours we were looking for only took place on weekends. The kids were pretty disappointed. Solanne cried a bit and stated the obvious that we were never going to be here again and that we would never get to see the tour. Maia was stoic and took our predicament into stride; it just isn't the weekend and we can't change that.
Since we had a fair bit of the afternoon left, we decided to take the kids to a playground we'd read about. It was a bit of a trek, but it was worth it. The girls got to swing a little and run a lot. Mostly they got to just play - not something they get to do a whole lot while we're on holiday.
The day had turned grey again and before we knew it, it was raining a bit. Then it stopped. Then started. And then it poured. Thunder clashed and lightning lit up the dark sky. At that point we were trying to keep out of he rain by taking refuge under one of the many trees in the park, in the hopes that it would clear up quickly, but it didn't. We left the park and ran across the street to what I believe was a bank and took cover. Not, of course, before being drenched despite our rain coats and umbrellas.
The rain finally let up and we began our long walk back to the hotel. We finished our day in our room, variously playing and reading, then eating a simple supper, the ingredients of which Derek picked up at a local grocer.
Sometimes plans don't work out and we have to come up with a Plan B or Plan C, but somehow it always ends up being enjoyable and exactly what we needed.
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