ponte vecchio

We crossed the street to the side of the river and got our first glimpse of Ponte Vecchio. Because I had read Dan Browns’ Inferno my mind was racing about secret passages over the bridge, from Boboli Gardens to the Uffizi. We walked across the old bridge of shops, small jewelry boxes being closed for the night by intricate hardware mechanisms from above, like an old roll top desk.

Ponte Vecchio

Easy espresso breaks were often and once we crossed over the river we spotted a gellateria for one. We walked down to the Boboli gardens, though they were closed. The intricate carvings, wooden revolvers, coat of arms, stone buildings, the stores that sold leather and linens. The Medici family’s wealth had washed over the entire city and they were so rich that even 300 years later it was still detectable.

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