Originally posted April 27, 2016 on Mid-life Meet Medici. For more travel posts about Italy, visit: https://midlifemeetmedici.wordpress.com.

My last day in Italy also happened to be my birthday. What is a girl to do?

I sweat. I panicked. I felt my breath growing faster and knew I was about to start hyperventilating, so I closed my eyes and leaned harder against the stone, hoping it was cool enough to bring me some relief. Regaining a little composure, I then barked “andiamo” (spelled wrong, but Italian for “let’s go!”) to a group of Italian teenage girls who clearly had no appreciation of claustrophobia.

But that was later in the day.

It had become evident during my first days in Florence that the crowds were already ridiculous and tours were the way to go. As I looked at the various options available through Artviva and Florencetown, I settled on a tour of the Duomo for my last Florentine morning.

The Duomo is St. Mary’s cathedral, probably the most recognizable piece of Florentine architecture. It is massive, one of the five largest churches in Christianity. The outside is stunning, the inside quite barren. But I suspected that the inside was barren because most of the art was inside the Duomo Museum, which only opened in November. It too was included in the tour.

I arrived promptly and received my first birthday gift of the day – I was the only person registered for the 2.5 hour tour. The same thing had happened with Viator when I booked a tour of the Bargello, but it gave me the “option” to pay a small fortune to convert it into a private tour, or to cancel with a full refund. I cancelled. Florencetown, on the other hand, merely lets you have a private tour for the cost you pay for a group! So I highly recommend Florencetown any day.

Francesca and I got along famously. She was not only extremely knowledgeable, she clearly loves history, art, and her city – she was born in Florence. Our 2.5 hours together turned into 3.45. The first time she noted we were running late I apologized, but she said she didn’t have a tour that afternoon and not to worry about it. I mentioned rushing through things a few other times and and she finally said, “please do not worry about it. I am enjoying my time with you and I love to talk”. I loved listening, so I said no more about the time.

I think part of the reason she enjoyed the time may be because I know more than the average tourist. I don’t say that to brag, I say it only because it became evident throughout my time in Italy as I listened to questions and comments from other tourists on other tours. Plus, I could tell there were times she appreciated the questions I asked. And best of all, there were times that were not just questions and answers, but discussions – about the art, the architecture, Italian politics or culture…it was a wonderful, fun, intellectual interaction.

And we laughed a lot too.

She also taught me something I never knew, something no one else had ever mentioned. The Medici weren’t just creators of art – they also destroyed it. In fact, the current front facade of that great Duomo is not original to the cathedral.

The Duomo was built before the Medici came into power by the various merchant guilds. But once in power, one of the later Medici decided the Duomo needed updating, and he destroyed the facade to create another. Somewhat ironic, but the power and wealth of the Medici began to wane, and he was never able to direct it’s refacing. The current facade was created much later during the unification of Italy. It was a similar story for the inside; many of the original balconies and other pieces of decor were removed and ‘updated’ by the Medici. This is how the Duomo Museum originally came to exist – concerned citizens who didn’t like what the Medici were doing, and sought to retain at least some of the former splendour, created a museum for the ‘outdated’ pieces being removed by the Medici. So while the physical location and layout of the museum is new (and very well done) the concept of the Duomo Museum is not.

There is much Medici that I wanted to see – Pitti Palace, where the Medici lived; Boboli Gardens, which they created; more of their art collection in the Uffizi. I never made it. And Francesca showed me that had I done all of that, I still would have only scratched the surface.

But that is not what caused the hyperventilating.

Included with the Duomo, Baptistery and Museum ticket is the opportunity to climb both the bell tower (some 300+ steps) and the actual dome of the Duomo (plus 450 steps). I have tried to climb old towers before – but when I get to the entrance and see their narrow width and low ceilings, and think of having to pass people, I suddenly envision the stone crumbling down on all of us – I see my own death! This vision has thwarted my climbing attempts many times over the years.

Today was not going to be one of those days.

When Francesca and I parted ways the dome line was ridiculous, and she said to go later in the afternoon. But when I walked by the bell tower, no line. Starving but buoyed but from our wonderful morning, I marched in.

It was there on the climb up with a group of others that I encountered the slow, giggling girls coming down.

People travelling up and down cannot continue to do so when they meet. One set must press against the wall while the others push through them to go the other direction. Why the ‘up’ group stopped, I don’t know. But when the ‘down’ girls stopped to have a chuckle in that airless space, I, already nervous, anxious and extremely fidgety, just about had a meltdown – and it must have been in my tone. With my Italian, “get a move on!”, the laughter instantly died, the downward movement simultaneously resumed, and even the group moving up resumed with renowned purpose.

I recall the man directly in front of me craning backwards at my barking, and I saw the look of surprise on his face. I don’t think he had ever seen a sweating deer in headlights.

But it was worth it. Both for the view and the sense of accomplishment.

And so was the climb up the dome.

While there are more stairs, and it too is cramped, you go up one side and down the other – not having to squeeze past other bodies makes a fair difference.

And so, for my birthday and my last day in Italy, I conquered my fear of the old Italian staircase – in fact, I would say I conquered my fear of any old European staircase!! Never again will claustrophobia thwart my desire to see the view.

Beating demons and seeing clearly – what a great way to spend a birthday.