Saturday, November 20, 2010

463 Steps To The Top!

From a window on the climb up.
Lynn and Jill were wide-eyed and excited to climb those 463 steps this morning. At 8:08, I knew I had to make a final decision on the 8:30 AM adventure to the top of the dome. I have been having trouble with the 63 steps to the entrance of our B and B, so I was a wee bit hesitant to lay my elderly, delicate body on the line. Now, maybe I'll never be back to Florence, shudder the thought, so, I threw on my jeans, boots and a sweater.

We three found the entrance eventually, and began the assent. About a fourth of the way up, Lynn and Jill bounded way ahead of me laughing and gliding effortlessly up the 463. (OK, maybe I exaggerate.) I, however, had to sit down after every 30 steps or so, huffing and puffing, heart racing. What's happened to me? I used to be so.......young!

I did eventually make it to the top, and the view was well worth all the laborious efforts on my part. We were all impressed by the engineering feat of the early renaissance and Brunnelecchi, the dome designer,  in particular. As I descended the stairs rather quickly, I marveled that I was walking in the same places as Vasari, the many mason workers, Brunnelecchi and all the many others who helped to build the dome. Amazing!

At the top!
What also struck me was that God gets honor when his creatures make something beautiful and unique, when they use their wisdom and talents, even if we don't realize it or acknowledge Him. 

It's time to get back out there for a final day of fun in Florence before we head back to Africa.

We had fun just relaxing over breakfast after the big climb, and then we each went our separate ways to catch last minute looks around town. My daughter, Annie, wondered about the Italian fashions. Well, they are showing the belted sweaters and short coats the gals in Morocco might wear, but  in Italy, the sweaters are with leggings and smart, long leather boots. 

In Morocco, the gals would need a lower half to their outfit, a longer skirt or pants, no leggings.
And, traditional Moroccan women would wear a jellaba over anything they'd wear in public.

The steps going down between the inner dome and the outer dome. 
Well, we are safely tucked into a little hotel near the airport.. Buononotte!

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