1. Leaving Rome
Our train didn’t leave until the middle of the day, so we had time for one last stop: Galleria Doria Pamphilj. Nominally, our objective was the Velazquez portrait of Pope Innocent X. But the gallery captivated us in much the same way that the Phillips Collection in Washington D.C. captivates: it doesn’t feel like a stodgy art museum but rather is a place where you just want to sit and absorb.
We didn’t have much time to sit and absorb but we did. We spent more time there than we had intended, and when we were done, we quickly returned to Hotel Paba, our headquarters for the last three days, gathered our backpacks and suitcases, took the metro to Termini train station where we had reservations for a high speed Frecciarossa train to Florence.
2. Arriving In Florence
Now my previous experience with Italian trains was not a good one. Admittedly, that experience is several decades old, and … well, things have changed. We found our seats, we stashed our suitcases and backpacks, and we sat in comfort waiting for the train to leave, which it did … on time, something that my dated impressions had not expected.
Did I say that it was a high speed train? It was. At times, we were racing thru the Tuscan countryside at 240 kilometers per hour (about 150 miles per hour). I had hoped that the ride would offer a good view of Tuscany, but much of it was thru tunnels and between walls or berms as we made a bee-line north. Tuscany passed by in a blur.
We arrived in Florence in the afternoon only a few blocks from the Relais Grand Tour, where Giuseppe showed us how to work the three keys and gave us a few suggestions for the next three days.
With our bags stashed in our room and our cash and passports locked in the safe, we headed out to our only objective for the day: the Galleria dell’Accademia.
3. David
“Look,” said Trudy when we walked in the museum, pointing to the right.
I turned to the left without looking. “I want to save it for last,” I whispered, which we did — saved Michelangelo’s David for last.
And all I can say is, I had no idea. Really, no idea. I felt like a child eating raspberries for the first time.
I mean, I knew about David of course. And I knew about Michelangelo. I had an intellectual understanding. And I knew what he looked like. But I had no idea how truly stunning he is when you stand directly before him. How the greatest sculpture in the history of Western civilization, carved from a block of marble that no one else wanted, towers over you, captivates you, looks away, draws your gaze, makes your jaw go slack.
I had no idea. Now I know.