Bologna, Sights and Scenes, II

Posted on November 21, 2012 by Elizabeth

Italy 2012, continued

For some reason, I am quite enamored of these slat-seat metal chairs in photos and have taken pictures of them in New York, San Francisco and now Bologna, although this is the first time I’ve seen them in orange. This was outside a noted coffee shop where folks stop for a bit of refreshment, but we’re on the move. No stopping allowed.

The old Bologna Town Hall.

And inside, a beautiful ceiling and light.

Across the square I see this stately building. Wait. Is that what I think it is? I zoom in for a closer look.

Yes! A fabric shop. This one carries high-end fabrics meant for suits and expensive dresses, for tailors and dressmakers. I’m in heaven.

I’ll take a half of a meter, please. It’s a gorgeous piece of wool challis, bound for a scarf. Or something.

Later that night when we passed by their window, we snapped a picture of their display. Everything was very close and all sights in the downtown Old Bologna were within in walking distance of each other. So as a result, we saw some things twice, as we looped around. Still, I would love to come here in more temperate weather, when the sun makes every building glow all day long.

Old door. Dave had stepped inside this area to photograph the gate leading into the inner courtyard. He’d become very adept at finding beautiful filigree gates to photograph as the following pictures can testify:

These gates hint at the inner life of these buildings, and Dave said he nearly got hit by a car while trying to get a good angle on a gate. I guess it was opening out by remote control and the car was behind him, but no worries. He’s nimble.

One hallmark of Bologna are their passageways, their covered walkways with elegant arches.

This is near the University of Bologna, where Dave went for his walkaround in the afternoon when we split up. That university is apparently the oldest in the world, according to Wikipedia, and was founded in 1088. As they note: “it was the first to use the term universitas for the corporations of students and masters which came to define the institution.”

The lady who checked us into our hotel gave us some huge number of miles of covered walkways (or porticoes) something like 66,000 kilometers, but we thought that sounded erroneous. I read later that it’s about 40 kilometers, which is still a lot. They did shield us from the rain, but they are not always contiguous, or continuous.

We thought of Chad when we saw this, as he runs a bike shop out of his garage, unofficially, though.

This is a close-up of the top balcony, as I was interested in the woodwork at the top.

Poetry Way. I loved it.

We knew we were on the right track to San Stefano, when this guy poked out his head and yelled, “It’s straight ahead!”

His wife agreed, although she could have been disappointed with my fashion statement of tourist sneakers. I was amazed that there was a whole chorus of heads about them, all along the eaves of this building.

One thing Italians do well, is set up the shot, or angle by which you approach something. The building with the heads is the far one on the left. Behind us is the church.

The points of these walkways converge to the front door, and that door is also framed by side walkways, more colonnaded porticoes.

We head in. (No, that’s not us.)

This is a map of the complex, and the big door is on Church #1-3. Chiesa del Crocifisso. The only info I could find was in Italian, but it is an old-style church, with the #3 room above the #2 Crypt. No photos were allowed in this area (but it might have been no flash–I don’t know).

We walked to the attached church, which is the octagonal Basilica del Sepolcro, where Petrionius, a Bishop from the 5th century (and who built this complex on top of one where a temple to Isis stood) was buried under a large altar (his tomb is just inside the gated door, in the lit area). Or so one guidebook told us. Of course, I am familiar with the name because of the Petronas Charm spell from the Harry Potter novels. Ah, the usefulness of popular culture.

Then into the Basilica dei SS. Vitale e Agricola, a dark church with slices of stone for window panes.

We made our way back to #6–the Courtyard of Pilate. Some say that the large urn was the same one where Pontius Pilate washed his hands of Christ, but that has been disproven. But it was a delightful place, with lots of intricate brickwork in the design of — I’m convinced — thirteenth century quilt block patterns. Then next door to The Cloisters (#8), back through the Church of the Martyrdom (#7), and we never made it into the other church/museum area (#9-12).

But we did enjoy this courtyard and the cloisters. All told, the construction on these series of churches stretched from the 5th century through to the 14th century, a range of styles and decor from austere and bone-chilling, to intricate and intriguing.

Yeah, okay. I love these designs. Who was it in the 8th century who thought of these? Who gave permission for such frivolity on basically a very austere church? I assume that only those who preached and worked there might see this, so was this to balance out the rest?

Looking into the cloister area.

At the top of this small column in this ancient window is a small sculpture of a snail.

This is a fourteenth century sculpture of a rooster, called the Rooster of St. Peter. For obvious reasons (read that section where Peter had denied the Christ three times before the rooster crowed that morning). I had Dave take the photo because it reminded me of several items in my daughter’s kitchen, when roosters were popular decorating items. Even though Dave and I traveled as a couple, in one way or another, we brought along all our children in our hearts and minds, finding things that reminded us of them. They are such a part of our lives that we cannot leave them behind, no matter where we go or what we see.

The Tomb of Somebody Important. The fact that I don’t know the complete and exact history of this particular little chapel (perhaps if I read Italian?), didn’t obscure the fact that I loved the whole scene — the floor, the wavy lines on the tomb, the peeling ochre paint as a stage set.

Back outside, the colors glow in the sun.

We’ve only hit a few of the things on our list, but we MUST stop for lunch. It was like some invisible alarm went off and all of sudden the restaurants were full to overflowing, packed, even. We survey a few, then find our way upstairs to a little place inside Eataly where they serve lunch. We only have to wait 10 minutes for a table and with some relief sit down.

Eataly began in New York City, but they’ve since opened places in Italy. How poetic! But our lunch was delicious and wonderful. After lunch, I wander aimlessly around the store, feeling the pressure of souvenir shopping for the folks at home. I’d contemplated giving it up after the last trip, but old habits die hard. After some discussion about shopping (yes, I need to do some shopping and you’re not helping me), we opt for some individual walking around time. I expect to find relief in being by myself to get some serious buying done (Dave will admit to being shopping-adverse), but as soon as he walks out the door and disappears into the street, I regret our separation.

I follow where I think he’s gone, but I can’t see him. I feel so alone, but figure he could probably use the time away from me more than I from him, so I let it be.

Touristing can be a hard business. The fountain of Neptune, as seen through a passageway.

This is the center of Bologna, the Piazza del Maggiore, which you saw in rain-streaked photos at the beginning of our time here. It’s much more glorious in the day.

I wander in and out of the Basilican of St. Petronio, but since they don’t allow photos, it is misty in my aging memory. The outside was monumental, however unfinished (note the ragged brickwork at the top).

I would have taken photos from the front, from the plaza, but the basilica was draped in reconstruction plastic and it looked like a wide white plastic wall, with cut-outs for doorways.

I went back to Eataly and purchased some balsamic vinegar, an apron and at the tourist office in the Plaza San Maggiore, picked up some more souvenirs. I had purchased a purse when we’d gone to Florence, and so wanted another from this trip to Italy. The lady in the tourist office (“So glad you came to me. I love shopping.”) directed me to one shop in Piazza Cavour, where I found this statue of a musician? professor? Again, if I read Italian, I could help you out with the history and importance, but I can’t. I decided to enjoy it on its artistic merits, surrounded by glowing Bolognian buildings.

I did find out that this is a statue of a famous politician, Camillo Benso, Count of Cavour. Figured. Who’d ever build a statue to a teacher? Or a musician?

The only flaw in my plan to do some serious solo shopping was the fact that most all of the stores close between 1 and 3:30 p.m. So I didn’t buy a purse, nor many souvenirs, but instead walked around (the new Town Hall, above), bought some chocolate, then headed home to wait for Dave.

It was thoughtful of the electrician to run those wires AROUND these corner statues, wasn’t it?

Next post: What Dave did, and the end of our time in Bologna.

Bologna Sights and Scenes, I

Posted on November 18, 2012 by Elizabeth

Italy 2012, continued

First, one last picture from Carpi. This is the meeting room of the Collegium Ramazzini, with its decorated ceilings. Certainly not all Ramazzians come every year. The number of members in the group is capped at 180, because at the time there were 180 Cardinals in the Catholic church and THEY were able to cover the whole earth, so that’s how they decided how many scientists there should be in the collegium.

Through a lovely fluke, the people in the car with us (from Carpi to Bologna) were also going to the same hotel, so the driver dropped us both off.

Since we had just come from a modern, more austere hotel-type lodging, I found this warm creamy yellow interior of this hotel lobby a perfect antidote to the rain outside.Scenes from our hotel. It’s really a conglomerate of about 5 houses, joined by two courtyards and a breakfast room, so it doesn’t feel like a “hotel.” That little “cottage” on the upper left is one of their rooms, but apparently it’s in great demand. While we had stairs to our room, the first building has an elevator.

Our bedroom and bath. I loved the sink with its graceful shape.

These flowers were just outside the breakfast room, near the cottage. Because of the rain, the internet was spotty, so after taking a bit of a break (we still hadn’t recovered totally from jetlag), we decided to get some dinner at a place the front desk recommended, Da Nello, downtown near the main square. See the Menu post for more info (it’s coming, it’s coming!).

We walked out on the rainy streets. Daylight savings time had already come to Italy, so it was dark earlier on the clock. The first picture is right across from our restaurant on a main pedestrian drag. The second is the main plaza, Piazza de Maggiore. We walked home and called it a day, praying that the forecasts for a let-up in the rain were accurate.

After a sumptuous breakfast with homemade coffee cakes, we headed out to the first of a few churches we saw. If you’ve been traveling, sometimes you begin to get church-sights-fatigue, as I did later on in this day. And as an armchair traveler, sometimes it’s easy to feel the same, as seeing it pictures, flat and in 2D is not the same as experiencing the huge spaces, or a stone angel tucked way up high over the altar, or the glint of the sun through a window, breaking through after three days of constant rain bringing soggy tourists some relief.

But first, I loved the idea that these grand cathedrals will always need a fix-it man, hanging around to oil the hinges on massive wooden doors, as he did.

In the center it’s a pristine, and light and airy church, with minimal dark wood.

But it had an occasional dark side chapel, with only the light on the Virgin Mary centerpiece, a dim cast from a side window, and a rose of glowing red votives.

The Murano glass chandeliers were simple and beautiful. Dave and I both took photos of this large “rosette” on the wall, interested in the swirls of rigid cloth and leaning figures, frozen in space.

Every Catholic church has the Stations of the Cross, and theirs were a tableau setting, draped with heavy scarlet damask cloth.

The Magi come to adore the Christ Child: Adorazione.

This checkerboard tomb (?) was in a side chapel. I like that with all this space, this huge and soaring church, they still have a hard time finding space to store things, so tuck them in a side chapel. (Just a guess.)

The organ and the Murano chandeliers. This reminded me a little of the church in Munich that is all in white. Of course, I can remember both of these churches because photos were allowed, although Dave said the fix-it man came and scolded him for taking photos. In many churches we went into there was a sign posted, although it was unclear if it meant no photos. . . or merely no flash.

Around the corner from the altar was this side chapel, a rosette on its ceiling, and if you dropped your 50-cent Euro coin in the turnstile, you were permitted to advance. If only going to heaven was so cheap or easy.

First up, the choir seats, where dignitaries or singers sit with intricately inlaid scenes at their backs, made of different veneered woods.

And then out into the cloisters, with hedged criss-cross rows subdividing the courtyard with a giant X. Sunshine is promised. We can almost feel it.

This almost makes you want to redesign your yard and outdoor patio, doesn’t it?

We were the only tourists in the cloisters.

Backside of the church.

Bell tower.

The sun is out! We are amazed to see this side of the cloisters start to glow like it was lit from within, until we figured out why: it was laid with red carpet. Still, I loved the effect.

Obviously NOT on the red-carpet aisle, but it was still lovely.

An unusual sculpture in one of the hallways on the way out. It reminded us of the sculpture we saw in the courtyard at the Vatican, and which Matthew had on his family blog.

We came full circle back out to the space in front of the church and the sky had darkened up a bit, throwing this statue of Saint Domenic into relief.

Sun again! I sound like a nut, but really, it’s so nice to see things without holding an umbrella over your head.

St. Domenic’s tomb, I believe. Now I’ve really got to redo the backyard.

With the sun out, the colors of Bologna start to come alive, with ochres, reds, golden yellows. It really is a beautiful city.

Here’s the men-door-keyholes, similar to what I saw in Carpi, but these are in much better shape. Love the door handles.

Dave took this one. I stopped to try and photograph the dog, and he was looking right at me, but the windows were all misty, so this is the better shot. Over and over it was reinforced that this was a city, not of tourists, although there were certainly accomodations for us, but a city of working and shopping and normal people.

Here are the two towers, from a shot Dave took later in the day. In the morning, we were coming at these towers from the other side. They have names: Torre Garisenda and Torre degli Asinelli. The shorter one used to be as tall as the one you see looming over the city, but was demed unsafe some years ago because of the leaning, and was lopped off. The taller one can be climbed. It’s something like 60 stories.

This is how we saw them, dissected by power lines.

And the next morning, we saw them this way, having climbed a small mountain to get a view. We laughed to see the radio/cell transmission equipment on the top, certainly not very visible from the ground. A good use of a tall space, I suppose, but fairly incongruous. Okay, back to the streets.

We’re on our way to San Stefano, a collection of seven medieval churches. More coming in the next post.

Todi, Deruta, Assisi & Pienza

Posted on September 11, 2011 by Elizabeth

(Italy 2007)

Driving across the countryside is not an efficient use of time while traveling, but it certainly is a beautiful way to travel. And where we’re going–the backroads work just fine. We’re on our way to other hilltowns, before our final destination tonight of Pienza. Above is Orvieto, from afar (through a haze, but it is apparent how “on a hill” it is).

We both decided we could live in that house on the hill if we had sacks of money. But, oh, what a beautiful location.

After traveling for a length of time, we arrive at the bottom of the hill of the town of Todi, in Umbria. This little church is the Santa Maria della Consolazione, built between 1508-1607. Yes, that’s 100 years.

It’s one of those brilliant little Renaissance churches based on a Greek cross. There’s some thinking that it was built to a plan by Bramante. I’m always impressed with the architecture of that time, as it seems there’s not a hair out of place on these churches, and they are so symmetrial and ordered. If ever your life was crazy-time, you’d want to come and pray in a church like this.

Interior Ceiling

Here’s a map of Todi for orientation. Many hilltowns have a long street down the middle, with everything branching off it. This long street often leads to the main plaza and a church.

We drive up a little further, park below this church, the San Fortunato (built 1292-1462, according to our guidebook), obviously missing the upper part of its facade. I liked the criss-crossing steps on the hill, visible on the map above, to the left of the main part of the town.

Todi has a lot of curving streets bordered by buildings. The shadows leading to the light are a typical scene, with flowers in the window box.

Or hanging laundry. Don’t you wonder who lives in that tiny one-window room just below the tablecloths? Or what it looks like from the inside? (Maybe a late addition of a bathroom?)

View from through the Duomo’s front doors.

View from the Duomo doorway into the Piazza del Popolo, which was built in the 13th century on the site of a Roman temple to Apollos. I liked its spare feeling–not a lot of ornamentation.

If I lived here, I could eat every night on that little balcony. There’s a lot times when traveling here that we would see a picturesque place like this, and wish for a few minutes that we could enjoy their style of living. But how often would the children and grandchildren be able to see us if we lived across the ocean? Our family has a pull that no beautiful house can match.

Giribaldi Plaza. This man was a folk hero, soldier, member of Itay’s parliament and apparently responsible (or contributed heavily) to the unification of Italy. Didn’t know any of this when I saw the statue–just liked his outfit and his hat, and the fact that the parked cars were an interesting juxtiposition against his rakish stance. He traveled all over the world, married a Brazilian woman, and even came to the States to try and raise money for a ship.

Lovely square tower, so typical of these towns. I assume all the dots next to the windows once held shutters.

This was on one side of Giribaldi Plaza. We were thinking about our next meal (lunch) and moving on to try and find a cousin to our Derutan plates hanging on the walls back in our kitchen, so we buy some prosciutto to go with the rolls we had from Orvieto, along with one tomato and two yellow plums. We stop in Deruta and eat our lunch in the car, then try to find the pottery. First stop–not the style, but beautiful. The town appears to be closed for the lunch hour–it’s all deserted. I’m about to give up home, but Dave spots an open door.

We go in. This is when I know Dave has ultimate tourist karma, because it’s the shop!

I’d taken pictures of our plates before leaving home and the owner identifies them as his. He confirms that he sells to a place in Laguna Beach, so we know it’s the right place. We take a long time, but finally choose salad-sized plates to take home. Here he is putting the wire on the back for hanging. He then invites us in to see the artists at work in the workshop.

Were you expecting Gepetto? It’s lunchtime he says (he speaks English), so a lot of them are at home.

It was interesting to me how they used one hand to support the other as they painted.

While we’re there, another tour guide with only three women comes into the shop, and I overhear her say this is the place to come for high quality pottery from Deruta. After paying for our plates, we find a gelato shop at the end of town and celebrate by sharing. We head on the highway toward Perugia, then veer off to Assisi.

We can see it from the motorway, high up on a hill, and we begin the climb up to the top (in our car). Just to the left of that green patch on right (on the map above) is a car park–a garage with LOTS of parking. This is at the top of the hill, so we begin to wend our way down to the Basilica.

This plaza is the first one we enter at the top of the hill, with its traditional square tower.

The main drag.

A friar on his way past the gelateria.

Flower-filled courtyard.

A favorite shot when I can get it: through an archway into the valley below.

Old frescoes (above and below) above interesting doorways.

A combo drive/walk street. Or else the paved sidewalks are for shopping carts and baby buggies.

Aqueduct of Assisi: water supply.

Dave in front of a building that looks held together with rods and end posts, but it has a variety of windows, probably from different eras, er–centuries. Just around the bend from this is the Basilica. This was the one that was so heavily damaged in the earthquakes in 1997. I remember seeing all the rubble of the collapsed tower, but we came so I could see the frescoes by Giotto, which are along the walls of the main church.

It was the campanille to the left that was so heavily damaged (I think). PAX on the lawn in front of the basilica. We took the tour–Reliquary, Tom, Lower Nave, Upper Nave–but no photos allowed, ending up in the gift shop, where there were no decent books on Giotto’s frescoes.

Okay to take photos of the courtyard, though, just outside the gift shop. We head back inside the church to admire the art. Here’s some sampling from the web.

The main part of the church.

Given that I’ll probably never get into Scrovegni Chapel, these were next best thing. We linger a long time, enjoying all the artwork, walking up and down, but mostly sitting, amazed at these frescoes, still intact from the 13th century. They portray the life cycle of St. Francis. Above, he eschews rich clothing and his titles so help the poor and needy. Below “Do not touch me,” as he greets Christ.

Head to this website to see more.

Back outside, we take more photos.

The friary? I like the brickwork.

Lower level, I guess where the tour busses arrive and drop off the tourists.

We head back up the street, spotting a nun. Silly to take photos, I suppose, but it’s not something I’ll see often in my hometown. Yet, it’s evident it is part of life here in Assisi.

This reminds me of a balcony where a Juliet might talk to her Romeo. On that day in Assisi, rain drops were falling–spitting, actually–but no rain.

Thirsty, we buy a 2-euro bottle of water and drain it. That’s one of the things about traveling, you learn not to take easy access to a drink for granted. I assume these are coats of arms affixed to the wall.

Another balcony on another square tower. We’re off to Pienza to our hotel.

We found this Hotel–Piccolo Hotel La Valle–on the web, where it was part of a traveler’s diary, then confirmed it was a good hotel on Venere.com, a cousin to our domestic Trip Advisor. It was at the edge of the town, and when we opened our windows we saw the countryside below.

Requisite photo of bathroom. Love the checkboard tiles.

We went to dinner at a restaurant recommended by the hotel desk: Da Fiorella. It is a very small place, with an upstairs loft-like area overlooking the main floor.

In the front is a fennel, pepper, carrot and raddichio salad. Dave had grilled eggplant with cheese. And in the center–heaven–in the form of lightly dressed white beans with onions.

Dessert: panna cotta with berry sauce and berries. We shared it–delish!

Orvieto, Italy

Posted on September 10, 2011 by Elizabeth

We arrive in Paris; it was tight a connection on Alitalia until the flight was delayed by two hours and we spent too much money on airport food for lunch, but not by choice. Welcome to travel.

We board and land in Rome, ready for our adventure.

First adventure: get the rental car, by walking through lots of tubular walkways like this one. The Slow Travel website had a really good description of how to find these rental car counters, so I knew it was a long way away from our gate.

Into the car and out on the freeway. Driving in a car around Rome was unusual, because like most tourists, I’d only ever traveled the downtown city center. It was interesting to see where Romans lived (high rises) and also interesting to see these glass walls on the freeway. The first time anywhere I think the sense of discovery runs very high and anything different or new is interesting, or at least worth taking a photo of.

Even dumb things like this tanker with interesting stars on the back of it.

Or beautiful things like these fields of sunflowers. We drove to Orvieto and looked for a place to park our car. We drove around the top of the city (remember this is on a hilltown) three times, before finding a car park.

Then find our way to the hotel.

Dave checks us in. The name of the hotel is Albergo (Hotel) Fillippeschi and it’s on Via Filippeschi 19.

The bedroom. It overlooked a fairly quiet street.

The bathroom. Stuff stowed, we head out. As usual our time zones are scrambled, so it’s stroll for a while until we feel we can do some dinner–usually later in these hilltowns. We head for the Duomo, as we’ve heard it’s best to see it in the setting sun.

This isn’t a huge town, so we just meander our way over. We come upon the plaza, framed by the side streets.

The striped construction is so interesting–bands of dark and then light flagstone, according to Wikipedia.

The sun’s beginning to glint off the gold glass tiles in the mosaics. We couldn’t take our eyes off of it.

For a comprehensive discussion of what is just touched on here, *this* website has a lot of great details about the cathedral.

(Imagine the previous photo hooked up with this one.)

We’re not the only ones who think this sight is worth something. A row of older men sit across the plaza from the duomo chatting away. From the looks of them, it’s a nightly occurrence in summer, I’d guess.

And on the other side, the distaff side of the town gathers to talk over their day.

We’re back to fascination with this cathedral. Apparently there are three major cathedrals in this region: Sienna, Florence and Orvieto, but this one gets little attention, as compared to the others. Certainly the city around it is not as compelling, and perhaps that’s why–size of town. This is literally the top of a hill, and it’s not very big, whereas the others have spread out more. But we find the front of this church, and its carvings entrancing, taking photo after photo (this is where a telephoto lens would have come in handy).

I suppose this one is the Creation, although I don’t know who the standing figures are on the left.

Spiraling bands of mosaic up the side pillars. I’m thinking quilt patterns! It’s a loopy kind of spiral, not even and measured.

The pillars near the front door. You can see the loopiness in that one pillar more clearly.

Reaching out over the edge of the facade in the upper right is a bronze sculpture: the eagle representing John in the New Testament.

Above the huge front doorways are a rose window and another triangular mosaic.

This is taken from the alley across the street. The plaza is not that large–sort of like Florence’s Duomo–hemmed in by buildings. Remember that there is not a lot of real estate up here on this hill–not like Venice, which has a grand plaza in front of its cathedral.

Apparently the flying buttresses (seen at the far end of this picture–the curving line) were built to try and help with the distribution of weight. Later they were found out to be pretty much useless. This cathedral too over 300 years to build, so I’m sure there were a lot of committees working on this one.

A side door. Love the green lintel.

These stripes I find, are quite striking, and highlight the architecture of this building. Strong bold stripes that have lacy filigree bands create another kind of contrast.

We think we’re hungry now and head for dinner. Three courses, and this is the first. It’s like a taste of everything.

Pardon the half-eaten meals. Sometimes we forget to take a picture at the beginning. These gnocchi were the best I’ve every eaten, anywhere.

Somehow we got our wires crossed and they brought the cheese course. I thought it would like 3 pieces, but it was a board with about 13 different kinds of cheese. I told them I’d pay for it, but there was no way I was going to eat it. Dave had dessert, though, and this is how it was served: a rolling trolley with clear covers over a variety of different desserts. I had some fresh berries, and Dave chose this baked dessert, but I can’t remember what it was, or what the name of the restaurant was. It was sort of kitty-corner from the Duomo, on our hotel side.

And this is what we saw when we came out after dinner. I’m always struck by the color of the skies in Europe–such rich colors, unlike our insipid blah of Los Angeles area. I suppose if we were on a hill somewhere, away from smog, lights and haze, we might actually get a sky like this. Nah.

The next morning we, with out screwed up time zones, are up way before dawn, shower and dress and try to go for a walk. Except they’ve locked the hotel front door and no one is at the desk. Okay–what if there were a fire? How would we get out now? We explore a little, and back in the bar is a little door opens that leads to a little alley. We’re out and can’t get back in until someone comes to man the desk. This is the hotel; the woman is standing in the doorway and our room is above her, shutters closed.

A different kind of light shines on the buildings this morning, with different facades and buildings illuminated. I like the two small windows by the central window, and the bas relief over the deep doorway.

This is supposedly the oldest building (after the cathedral). The crenelation on that roof is quite interesting.

I love that these buildings have art on the exterior, with a very elegant frame.

I’m going to paint my doorway in bands, just like these. Do you suppose they scavenged them from when the cathedral was being built? Tthey are across the side plaza.

Coats of arms built into the building.

We’d seen this clock last night (it faces the side of the cathedral, next to the shop with the interesting black and white doorways). We think the top contraption is a mechanical clock.

There is more to this town than the cathedral and we go exploring.

A perfect little Madonna and son tile embedded above a doorway.

Senso Unico=One Way. That’s why we traveled around the town three times the night before trying to find a place to park. Everytime we’d get close, one of these signs would direct us another direction.

Close-up of the little patio in the picture above.

I’m pretty fixated on mailboxes when I travel. Someday I’ll do a post on nothing but mailboxes.

This little church wasn’t open, otherwise we’d have gone inside. It is still quite early in the morning.

They do doorways really well in Italy.

The morning sun is beginning to bring the Italian colors alive, along with fake sunflowers blooming on a balcony above us.

The angles: up, down, slant, rounded, framed by a small alleyway.

Doesn’t the mossy texture on this church invite touch? And that cross has its own tufts of grass–or lavender–growing up there.

These pictures are taken overlooking the surrounding countryside.

Now we’re back onto our street and are thinking–maybe breakfast? We wanted to get a start this morning toward Pienza and visit some more hilltowns. I love this balcony of flowers, but could never replicate them in our desert heat. Even the arbor is well-defined in vining tendrils.

After breakfast, one last view from our hotel room, as people are starting their day. We leave our luggage, and decide to try and see the interior of the cathedral.

We’re ready.

I’m always surprised when an ornate exterior leads to an empty interior–much like the cathedral in Florence, I think.

The Rose window from the inside. I suppose if we’d been on a tour, they would have turned on all the lights to illuminate ceilings. I’ve seen some of these photos on the web, but we take our sights as they come to us.