The place with the big red dome

The famous Duomo (cathedral), which we visited after we left the Accademia Gallery, is first of all huge.  We came upon it from the side, and looking down its length, it seemed to go on forever.  It is even more magnificent on the outside than pictures of it suggest.  (The inside is less so, but more about that in a moment).  Particularly the façade: the multicolored marble – did I mention that everything in Italy seems to be made of marble? – is so striking, so different from the grey stone I was accustomed to seeing in French cathedrals.  When you’re standing looking up at it, it seems to be striped, but that’s a trick of the eye, caused by the long white marble panels trimmed in green marble.  These panels running up the sides, the front of the building, one atop the other, form green and white stripes. And there is also some rose-colored marble mixed in there, especially in the tall, square camponile (bell tower) that stands next to the church.

At the same time that you’re marveling at all that color, you are almost blinded by the whiteness of the vast central entrance, the two smaller arched entrances to either side.  And there are white niches containing sculptured figures on each side of the arches, and just below the roof. The large round windows above the pointed side arches, and the even larger window above the central arch, give a wonderful symmetry to the whole.   

Interestingly, though the church was built over a 140 year period (1296-1436), the marble facing on the façade (which is so gorgeous) was re-done in the late 1800s.  Can't help wondering what it looked like all those years. 

So I was busy snapping pictures, like everyone else, but oh, those crowds.  Losing one’s group was a real fear, and a real possibility.  At one point, when our guide was going on and on, as he had about David, I took the opportunity to sit down on a step of the church and finish the sandwich I had started eating when we were at the Palazzo Davanzati (as I’ve said, my need to eat frequently was a constant pain).  I heard the guide switch from the Duomo to the Baptistry, which is a few steps from the church, and is the place where babies in days of old had to be baptized before they could enter the church.  The most famous feature of this small, octagonal-shaped building are the double doors carved by the artist Ghiberti, over a 27-year period (these artistic masterpieces took a long time to produce!)  The doors are made up of 10 gilded panels beautifully carved with stories from the Old Testament. Most of us who took art history in college have studied these doors, and it was nice to be able to see them in the flesh, so to speak.  But as a matter of fact it was difficult to see them because of…you guessed it… the crowds.  Every picture I tried to take was obscured by heads, bodies, some group leader holding up a sign with a number on it so his group would know where he was.

I would have loved to be able to patiently wait until those pressed up against the gold-painted bars

Ghiberti's famous doors, completed 1452

that protect the doors from the hordes (and possible vandalism) had moved away, so that I could inch my way up to that barrier, and actually study the panels for a few minutes.  But alas, I was losing the guide’s voice – it was fading in and out on my little headphones (which I now had, thanks to Gianni coming equipped with a couple of spare ones) – and looking around, I couldn’t see a single member of my group.  Yikes!  Had they gone into the Baptistry?  I circled the place, searching for the entrance; when I finally found it, saw that there was a 5 Euro entrance fee.  No, surely they hadn’t gone in there.  So I returned to where I had started and there, praise the lord, was Gianni, looking around for me, waving when he saw me (and not for the last time). 

But wait, the group was moving off down the street.  I ran up to Gianni and exclaimed (literally exclaimed) “Gianni, we aren’t going into the Duomo?!”  No, he said, “There isn’t time.”  This absolutely flumoxed me.  How could you take people to see one of the most famous churches in the world, and not take them inside.  When I said this to Gianni he agreed with me, and said that when I got the email from Perillo asking how I had liked the tour, I should mention this.  “Because they won’t listen to us,” he said, meaning the guides. 

Alas, I never received such an email, never got the chance to voice my dismay at this egregious omission.  Perhaps if the guide hadn’t spent so much time on David, there would have been time.  Listen up, Perillo Tours.

I later went back by myself.  I was pleasantly surprised at how minimal the crowds were, how non-existent the line to get inside, and not for the first time I wondered, “Why do all the tour groups descend on these famous sites at the same time?”  Instead of everybody showing up  9-11 a.m., why don’t some of them go 2-4 p.m.?




Facade of Duomo, Florence

 


Side of Duomo, dome & a chapel in bkgrd

 At any rate, once inside I admit to finding myself mildly disappointed, as I had been with San Giorgio Maggiore in Venice.  Here, too, the word ‘austere’ probably sums it up best.  What you mainly notice about the place is that it is vast, vast and empty, no pews or chairs, practically no decoration, just great blank walls reaching up and up.  The few narrow stained glass windows are so high on those walls, they make practically no impression at all.  The one thing that is truly impressive is the inside of the great dome, which is as spectacular as the outside.  It’s so very high it’s hard to see the figures, the scenes clearly, but it is a wonderful swirl of rich color.  Worth going into the church…as long as there’s no line.