Back in Italy, but this time my destination is the cradle of artists, philosophers, and Renaissance dreams: Florence.
Florence welcomes me through Marina, with whom I’m staying. Entering her home in the city center, I’m surrounded by thousands of books, lush plants, and a little dog like mine, named Violetta. Within these walls, a sense of home and discovery blends together as I prepare to wander its streets, squares, and corners full of history and charm.
Early on Monday morning, I arrive at the Leonardo Da Vinci school — yes, the same one as in Rome — which has large windows overlooking the Duomo; everything there breathes Renaissance: frescoes, columns, and a light that invites learning. I start classes, which are going to be very interesting: all the students have a similar level, many discussions and debates arise, and I learn a lot while having fun.
On Mondays, the school organizes a themed walk through the city. Today’s is about none other than the father of the Italian language, Dante Alighieri, led by one of the teachers, an art historian with a lively personality, who guides us through Dante’s life in Florence.
We begin at the Santa Maria Nuova Hospital, the oldest in Florence. It was built between 1285 and 1288 by Beatrice’s father, the woman who inspired Dante. Initially, the nurses were nuns living in a convent right across the street, from where they also fed the poor. It is said that Mona Tessa, one of those nuns, convinced Beatrice’s father to build the hospital.
The hospital’s church is full of artistic details that break with convention, like its unusual rounded steps. On its walls, ancient paintings narrate the hospital’s early days and the lives of those who lived there.
The next stop is the cathedral, the imposing Duomo, whose construction began precisely during the years when Dante lived just a few steps away.
Next to the Duomo, our teacher points out a discreet plaque on the wall that reads “Sasso di Dante”: it is said that the poet used to sit here, lost in thought, watching the cathedral rise. Later, in Piazza delle Pallottole, there is another stone — with a humorous plaque proclaiming “I’ vero Sasso di Dante” — as if someone were playfully mocking the story.
Sasso means “stone,” and I wonder which one is the real one. The legend is charming: they say Dante had a prodigious memory. In this same spot, someone once asked him what he liked to eat most. Dante answered, “eggs.” A year later, the same man returned and asked, “with what?” And without looking up, Dante simply replied, “with salt.”
On a busy street, we pass by what was the family home of Gemma, Dante’s wife, and just across the alley stands the so-called Church of Dante, which is almost always closed.
Throughout the city, plaques with verses from the Divine Comedy appear, and the one in front of us belongs to the Purgatorio. We also stop at the place where Dante lived with Gemma, in that maze of medieval streets and buildings. A small chapel where they married is preserved here, still keeping a hole for donations meant to feed the poor. Its interior frescoes are a true treasure.
The Dante Museum House — an impressive building with a medieval tower shape — can also be visited, although it’s not entirely clear that the poet actually lived there; perhaps it is more of a tourist attraction than a historical fact.
Another stop is the National Bargello Museum, which was originally the first place in the city for political meetings, which Dante also attended. From here, he received the letter that decreed his exile.
The tour ends in front of the Santa Croce church. At that hour, it was already closed, but I returned another day to explore inside. Some say the visit is even more worthwhile than the Duomo. I didn’t enter the Duomo, but I can assure you that Santa Croce thrilled me.
I arrived crossing the Piazza della Santissima Annunziata and found this magnificent church. Its walls hold centuries of art and faith. The feeling is overwhelming: it houses the tombs of great figures in Italian history and art, such as Michelangelo, Galileo Galilei, and Machiavelli, as well as monuments dedicated to Dante. Every corner breathes history and creativity, but also bears more recent scars.
On November 4, 1966, the Arno River overflowed, covering Florence with mud and water up to more than four meters high in some areas. The church was one of the victims: paintings, frescoes, and sacred objects were damaged under the mud. The most moving aspect of this tragedy was the reaction of hundreds of volunteers, known as gli angeli del fango — the angels of the mud — who came from all over the world to rescue artworks, clean streets, and save what seemed lost. Young people, students, locals, and even anonymous foreigners worked day and night, and thanks to them, part of Florence’s heritage was recovered.
LITERARY NOTE
Florence is explored with the feet, but also with imagination and books. These days, I’ve been accompanied by A Room with a View by E. M. Forster. The story follows Lucy, a young Englishwoman traveling to Italy in the early 20th century, who faces the social conventions of her surroundings while discovering freedom, love, and the beauty of the world around her. Reading it here, strolling through streets that seem frozen in time, made every scene come alive: the feeling of looking out a window and discovering the city, the mix of excitement and freedom that only travel can bring, all became more intense.
I also want to mention other titles that engage with Florence in different ways: Death in Florence by Marco Vichi, with its intriguing plot set in the city; The Divine Comedy, which remains present in plaques and corners; and Inferno by Dan Brown, which uses the city as the setting for a fast-paced and entertaining mystery.
Florence, with its stories, streets, and books, stays with me as a place where learning and discovery blend with the poetry of every corner.
