Sienese
Sweet Perfection
Panforte is a local confection containing almonds
and dried fruit--While in Siena, I bought a sample of this
brand, fresh and locally made.
About the size of a hockey puck,
I vowed to save and savor it, but the next day on the train
curiosity and appetite got the better of my intentions,
and I opened the thick paper wrapping.
Inside, the powdered sugar covered
disk was thick with whole almonds, and a little nibble became
a bite. The texture was both crunchy and chewy, and the
flavor, unexpectedly delicious.
Before I knew it, it was gone,
leaving nothing but my fingers, coated in sticky white powder.
I deeply regretted not buying
more, and was delighted when I saw panforte, duty-free at
the airport. I delightedly purchased a large one to take
home to share with family and friends.
It was a different brand, however,
and when I unveiled it as the pièce de résistance,
it turned out to resemble nothing so much as a disappointingly
typical holiday fruitcake.
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Siena's
Duomo is remarkable for several reasons. Its
black and white striped marble facade is striking and original,
in a way that critics either love or hate (I rather liked
it, myself).
Like San Gimignano,
Siena too had its run-in with the Plague. The grand plans
for the largest cathedral in Christendom had to be scrapped,
and one whole wing remains unfinished to this day.
The floor of the Duomo is completely
covered with mosaics, though most of them are obscured
by a layer of padded protection. Only a rotating few are uncovered
at any one time, except once a year when the whole floor is
put on display.
Sienese
Stripes
Like an unrepentant old-time convict, the Duomo wears
its black and white stripes proudly.
Listen inside Siena Duomo (1:04)
Off the transept, I found a wall covered with
various articles: pictures, photographs of
people, wooden crutches and metal braces, plastic flowers
and handwritten pieces of paper...so many stories, so many
hardships. Even without a command of the language, it was
clear that miracles were being sought here, and gratitude
for miracles was being expressed.
Into the somber sanctuary, with the heads of
172 Popes staring down at me from the ceiling, I eased myself
into a pew. For a not a particularly religious person,
I had certainly spent a great deal of time in churches of
late; perhaps it was finally getting to me.
Without thinking about it, I bowed my head and
opened my heart. The numbness that sheltered me most of the
time from the worst of the pain dropped away, and in that
state of exquisite vulnerability I sought simply to
accept what had happened, to stop fighting with reality.
In that moment, I felt a profound sense
of peace gently settle over me, freedom from struggle,
from anger: a state of grace. It didn't last, of course, but
it was real, and it gave me hope, enough to hang onto for
now.
Next:
A Kiss at Sunset |
