There is a place in Florence that I keep coming back to, again and again. When the city noise becomes too overwhelming, when the streets feel too crowded, and everything just seems like too much — that’s when I head there. Upwards. To a place where the city no longer just surrounds you but seems to support you from below.
The Basilica of San Miniato al Monte rises above the city, sitting on a hilltop with timeless calm. It’s as if it doesn’t belong to everyday life but to something older, something eternal. Its marble façade — with its distinctive green and white geometric patterns — beckons even from afar. Among its classic lines, there is nothing ostentatious, yet it holds everything: harmony, elevation, timelessness.
The basilica is not only a religious site but also almost like a lookout tower — and the view over Florence from here… well, words cannot do it justice. The best thing to do is to sit down on the stone railing, close your eyes, and try to store the feeling: the light, the peace, the weight of history, and the silence of eternity.
Inside, the basilica’s interior demands no more attention than you willingly give it. The interplay of shadow and light on the mosaic floor, the quiet air, slow movements. The faded golds of the frescoes, the stones of the cloister — all whisper the same thing: there is no need to rush.
The adjoining cemetery is also part of this peaceful retreat. It is here that Franco Zeffirelli rests — the world-renowned director who never truly left Florence. His grave is simple and dignified, much like the place itself.
If you find yourself in Florence, don’t stop at Piazza del Duomo or the Uffizi Gallery alone. Make your way up the hill. Avoid the crowds. Give yourself the gift of a moment from the quiet eternity of San Miniato al Monte.
For me, San Miniato al Monte is not just a sight to see, but a refuge. A spot in Florence that remains unchanged. Arriving here means putting everything down for a moment and simply watching: the city, the sky, and yourself.