A Renaissance Snow Globe

“What is the fatal charm of Italy? What do we find there that can be found nowhere else? I believe it is a certain permission to be human, which other places, other countries, lost long ago.” –Erica Jong

Even after spending five weeks in the city of Florence, I still get starstruck sometimes by all the history. The rich heritage and history of Florence sometimes seems to stop the flow of daily life. The city is like a living museum, a Renaissance snowglobe bubbled off from the passage of time. Hordes of tourists shuffle around listening obliviously to their audioguides and zoom through the streets on Segways. Because of Florence’s pivotal role in the Renaissance, the city’s architecture is static: many Roman or medieval structures no longer survive, excluded from the city’s narrative, while new construction has to meet certain design requirements. Historical cafés, like Giubbe Rosse in the Piazza della Repubblica where men in crisp red tux jackets aggressively solicit you to come in for a caffè, are protected by law and are not allowed to close.

But I love the points where the contemporary and the historic intersect. The other day my roommates and I climbed up to the Forte Belvedere. After scaling a postcard-esque hill, framed by olive trees and beams of July sun, we emerged at the fort and an incredible vista over the city of Florence. The fort itself is five hundred years old; the façade is roughhewn stone, stark against the green of the surrounding rolling hills. The fort was hosting a contemporary art exhibit – Chinese artist Zhang Huan’s giant sculptures of Buddha, sprouts of contemporary sculpture cropping up between the ancient stones.

Our favorite pizza place, Gusta Pizza, is located on the Piazza Santo Spirito – we take our to-go boxes and perch on the steps of the church with the young locals. Melted mozzarella drips from our fingers as we lounge by a monument that houses works by famous Renaissance artists such as Brunelleschi and Michelangelo. In the Piazza della Signoria at night, orchestras hold outdoor concerts and the swell of music breathes life into the spectating marble statues. Street vendors fling tacky souvenirs into the air, flying light-up contraptions that drift down to the cobblestones like falling stars.

After this, it’s hard to imagine returning to suburban Naperville, Illinois. Our most important historical monument is Naper Settlement, a model of the town as it was in the 1800’s, where third grade classes often go on field trips to learn how to churn butter. I’m going to miss stubbing my toes on age-worn cobblestone, the secret churches that appear out of nowhere on every street, and the pink haze of sunset on the Arno, older than the history of man.