A Pity to Ignore

Here the tower can be seen as the tallest among towersIn The Evening of the Holiday Sophie and Tancredi take a trip to Florence. I was upset that so much of the book was spent on incredibly vivid descriptions of everything else in the book except this phenomenal city. I have never been to a more beautiful place in my life. So allow me to fill in what Hazzard decided to exclude.
First, the smell; Florence smells better than any other place I have been in my life. Leave all the windows open before going to bed in Florence and one will be awakened in the most pleasant manner imaginable. Freshly baked bread is made every morning and permeates the city. The soft wind carries these delicious smells down the cobblestone streets, into any open window, and into your nose. It is a smell that makes one feel Italian, for the bread is authentic, likely made from a recipe that has been passed down through generations. These smells make one melt inside.
This smell adds to the sensation that one is living in the past. Along with the cobblestone streets which one can walk right down the middle of with no issue and the ancient architecture of numerous churches and the duomo, Florence engenders a sensation of living in a history book. Florence is also the home of extremely famous works of art such as the sculpture of David. Being in the presence of such influential and relatively old artwork enhances the feeling of being a part of an ancient time. There is something about being there with the art as opposed to pictures of the art that allows us to connect with the artist as a person rather than a concept and the ideas associated with it. Furthermore, all the roof tops of the buildings in Florence are made from red clay that blazes under the sun and fosters feelings of a cozy and comfortable, but rustic existence.
One can see the red roofs of Florence in their entire splendor if willing to make the precipitous ascent to the top of the tower next to the duomo. The way up to the top of the tower is a winding staircase made of stone with low ceilings that one may strike one’s head upon if not paying close enough attention. Many of the stairs could not even be considered such as they had been weathered away by continual use. Being rather young on my trip to Florence and even less at grips with my terrible fear of heights that I still harbor, I found myself crawling up the last few flights of stairs in fear that if I stood, I would topple over backward or something ridiculous of the like. It was all worth it in the end. The view from the top of the tower glows orange from the sun hitting the roof tops and reduces fellow humans to mere specks. One can see more than there is time to fully take in and appreciate; repeat visits are desirable. Though I have never done it myself, I have complete and utter faith that watching a sunrise or sunset from the tower would be among the most spectacular and romantic events possible.