42 to 463 to 1

Who needs a stairmaster? Italy is full of stairs and you have to climb them if you want to get anywhere.  There are 42 steps from street level to the front door of our flat.  We walk these stairs what seems like sixteen times a day.  The stairs are narrow, steep and waiting for me to wipe out on them.  It is really only a matter of time, and a couple of glasses of chianti!

One has to climb 463 steps to reach the top of the Cupola di Brunelleschi at the Duomo (Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore).  The Duomo is one of the most iconic landmarks in all of Florence.  Construction was begun in 1296, but not completed until 1436 when the dome of the cathedral was finished.  The dome is the largest brick dome ever constructed and has no visible interior supports.  The facade of the church was not finished until much later in 1887 and is a striking contrast to the minimalist interior of the buildings, save the stunning ceiling mosaics and frescos.  

This morning the girls and I decided that we had practiced enough on our 42, and it was time to tackle those 463 steps of the Duomo.  Now, I jokingly refer to myself as a "fit fat girl"  but I knew that I was going to have my work cut out for me to keep up with Bella.  She is like a thoroughbred charging out of the starting gates at all times - and she would run up those stairs at a full sprint, muscles rippling, if I didn't reign her in.  Scarlett is no schlep either, but she is much less competitive.  So, I knew she would rather be with me than leave me in the dust.  

As we started our ascent up the initial stairwell, I was extremely thankful that I am not claustrophobic.  The passage was narrow, but not oppressive.  It alternated back and forth between straight flights and spiral climbs.  As we stopped at a landing around step 160, I took silent joy in the wheezing coming from the 20-somethings behind us.  I congratulated myself for not being a smoker and charged on (behind my little race horses).  By the time we reached step 463, I admit to having a little sweat dripping down my back.  The final 10 steps were nothing short of treacherous (more like climbing a ladder), but we were rewarded with a panoramic view of the city.  Scarlett noted how the terra cotta roofs seemed to go on forever.  

I didn't count the steps from the Duomo to Yellow Bar, where we had linner.  This is what we call a meal that serves as both lunch and dinner.  I swear that each meal we have gets progressively more delicious, either that or we are getting more comfortable and creative with our selections.  Chianti is the wine of choice in most restaurants and they often have a house label which simply means fabulous wine with a dirt cheap price tag.  The last number that you need to know is one - that is the number of drinks purchased for me today by Italian men who are NOT my husband.  Good thing Tom arrives tomorrow afternoon so he can keep an eye on me!