The Cities · 28 – 30 June
Florentia — the flowering one
The cradle of the Renaissance, lit by sharper Tuscan light.
La Cronaca
For about two centuries this middling wool town on the Arno produced an unreasonable share of the Western canon: Dante's language, Brunelleschi's dome, Masaccio's perspective, Botticelli's mythologies, Leonardo, Michelangelo. The Medici bank paid for much of it and the city has been living graciously off the interest ever since.
Brunelleschi's dome — the largest masonry vault ever raised — went up without centering, by a goldsmith with no architectural training who refused to explain his method. It remains the city's roofline law: nothing may stand taller.
Across the river, the Oltrarno still works with its hands: leather, marbled paper, gold leaf, shoe lasts. It is where Florence stops performing the Renaissance and simply continues it.
L'Atlante Locale
Every pin opens in Maps — the whole city, one thumb away.
La Galleria
La Cucina
Il Pratico
Drier, sharper light than the north — the river valley bakes at midday and turns gold after seven.
Modest dress for Sunday Mass (shoulders, knees). Real shoes for 463 dome steps. Evenings stay warm — linen over layers.
Una Nota Da Portare Dentro
Chant under the dome on Sunday, marble at noon — Florence says the same thing in every medium: the essential was always inside.