Evening reflections after a day with Michelangelo's David
It's just past 6:30 pm, and I'm sitting in my hotel room, feet propped up after a day of walking Florence's cobblestone streets. The temperature has dropped to 8°C outside, and I can see the city lights beginning to twinkle through my window. I've got 405 days left on this journey, but tonight I'm feeling particularly reflective about what I've seen today.
This morning started early (as usual) with my visit to the Accademia Gallery. I arrived at 8:50 for the 9:00 opening, joining the small queue of early visitors. Being among the first through the doors meant I had a few precious moments with Michelangelo's David almost to myself.
There's something about standing before a masterpiece created over 500 years ago that puts your own existence into perspective. David stands 5.17 meters tall, a figure carved from a single block of marble that had been rejected by other sculptors. I found myself walking around it slowly, noticing details I'd never appreciated in photographs – the tension in the veins of his hands, the subtle asymmetry of his face, the weight distribution that seems almost impossible for a marble statue.
"What are you looking for?" a voice beside me asked. An elderly American woman had noticed me circling the statue for the third time.
"I'm not sure," I answered honestly. "Maybe answers."
She nodded as if this made perfect sense and moved on.
After the Accademia, I made my way to the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore to climb Brunelleschi's Dome. The 463 steps were worth every labored breath for the panoramic view of Florence – terracotta rooftops stretching to the hills beyond, the Arno River cutting through the city like a silver ribbon. I stayed at the top longer than planned, watching clouds cast shadows across the landscape.
In the afternoon, I wandered through the Boboli Gardens behind Palazzo Pitti. The gardens were less crowded than the city center, and I spent a peaceful hour photographing the cypress trees that stand like sentinels along the pathways. Some of these trees have witnessed centuries of Florentine history, their roots extending deep into the same soil that nourished the Renaissance.
I meant to visit more museums, but somehow found myself simply walking instead – across the Ponte Vecchio, through narrow streets, past churches and palazzos. Florence feels different from Bologna or Modena. There's a weight to its beauty, a sense that you're walking through living history.
On my way back toward the hotel, I passed by Piazza Santa Croce where the Christmas market is in full swing. Wooden chalets sell ornaments, gifts, and seasonal treats. It suddenly hit me that this will be my first Christmas away from home. I stood there for a while, watching families browse the stalls, children pointing excitedly at toys and decorations. The market will be here until December 21st, so I'll have more chances to explore it before I leave.
I also noticed a poster for a Rolling Stones tribute band playing tonight at NOF in Borgo San Frediano. For a moment I considered going – the show starts at 6:30 and admission is free – but my feet had other ideas. After walking all day, they voted unanimously for a quiet evening in.
There's a yellow thunderstorm warning for tomorrow starting at 2:00 PM, which might affect my plans. I was hoping to visit the Uffizi Gallery, which I missed due to the strike yesterday. Perhaps I should go early to avoid the weather.
As I sit here now, I'm thinking about what I've seen and what I'm looking for. Ninety-five days into this journey, and I'm still not sure I'm any closer to figuring out what change I want to bring to the world or to myself. But standing before David today, I was reminded that transformation isn't always dramatic. Sometimes it's as subtle as finding the figure within the marble, removing what isn't needed to reveal what was always there.
Tomorrow is another day in Florence. Another chance to search.