Lynn Schirmer

I’m holed up in a hotel across the street from the apartment as my flight was canceled. I leave before sun rises tomorrow. The hotel is dirty and overpriced, but I find it more pleasant than the apartment. I think it may be the ceiling height in the rooms.

I met 2 charming bar tenders last night at a cute and brand new bar a block or so away. (I wandered into the bar after finding out my flight was canceled.) One of them spoke 4 or 5 languages and had quite interesting stories to tell about his travels.
Ciao.

I learned some things about traveling solo. I’m not sure whether it would be helpful to share them, they may only be meaningful to me.

All week I had moments of being tired and a little homesick. Now I have a sad feeling about going home. My last day today began a little roughly. They usually do when I’m tired and forget to say please at the cafe. Saturday night in Florence is a lot like Saturday night in Pioneer Square. The young people coming out of bars kept me up late.

My tour of the Pitti Palace gardens took place in the pouring rain, but later a leather vender cleaned my shoes for me and we had a long discussion about immigration. I had a nice gelato with an Irish couple who had resettled in Paris. They were full of good advice.

These encounters are what keep me going day to day. It is exhausting however, to always be meeting someone new, rather than to have contact with someone familiar. That is the difficult thing about traveling solo. So although I’m sad to be ending my adventure, I find comfort in packing tonight.

In 2006, Su took what was her first trip to Europe. This seemed surprising for an Art History Instructor, that she had not yet managed to see the great works of Western Art in person. I read the short journal she kept of her trip. She chose to visit 3 cities, all in Italy, Venice, Florence and Rome.

She wrote in her journal that of the 3 cities Florence “Felt like home.” So I brought her here. My plan was to let her go in the Arno River, but on a short trip into the hills yesterday, I knew I had found the right place.

Fiesole is a small hill town about 20 minutes north of Florence. It is known for its Etruscan and Roman ruins. Apparently it was so well fortified it took Rome a long time to conquer it.

I took a bus to get there on what I could see from the forecast would probably be my last sunny day in Florence. I wandered about the town, and finally starving went in search of a restaurant. There was a monastery high upon the opposing hill from the city square and so I climbed the embankment hoping it was open. It wasn’t, but the view was breathtaking, better than any other I’d found from the small town. You could see all of Florence laid out as if at your feet, the dome of the Duomo sticking out, but not too much at this distance.

I knew immediately this was the place to let the rest of her go, and so I did. Pictures below.

Approach to the overlook

Hill

Here I let her go. The gentle wind took her into blossoming Iris plants and beautiful silver-leafed shrubbery I don’t know the name of, and trees which bear pine nuts, all overlooking the city of Florence, with a Queen’s eye view.