By the Arno River

Arno River scull, originally uploaded by Tom Watson.

Humanism clangs against the cold armor of authoritarianism in Salman Rushdie's short and golden-eyed The Enchantress of Florence, which I devoured last week in my tiny Air France coach cocoon 38,000 feet over the north Atlantic on my way to the fertile Tuscan workshop of the Medici. That Air France calls its steerage section "Voyageur" adds little glamor - and no legroom - to the grinding tin-can journey, much as "Transformers II" viewed in airline seatback mode doesn't advance Rushdie's soft humanism vs. machine-like authoritarianism theme by more than a rivet or two. It's a sensualist's book, really. Florence isn't the ordered high-minded laboratory of the Renaissance of repute; it's a swirling cesspool (and Machiavelli's a good guy).

The city I encountered was neither. The ancient city core, with its alleys and 500-year-old palazzos, is surrounded by hills and suburbs. The walk along the Arno, across and back on the bridges, in the evenings and on the last morning - my kind of stroll. By the Duomo of the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore or the Palazzo Vecchio (aka city hall) or over at the Medici Chapel, I whisked by at a glance. Just across from the hotel, where my room came with a huge balcony and view across the towers and domes, was the Chiesa di Ognissanti, burial place of Boticelli. I heard the bells but had not more than a few moments to study the facade.

I was in Florence with a group of about 40 NGO executives, political leaders, social entrepreneurs, corporate philanthropists, educators, and media gurus convened by Vital Voices Global Partnership,  working to develop a framework for economic, cultural, and political change powered by women. The days were spent in the hills, at Villa La Pietra, the Tuscan home of New York University thanks to the will of Sir Harold Acton. It was a fabulous place, and the work was stirring - my story is up at The Daily Beast (thanks to Tina Brown, who moderated the panel I was on and recruited me to write the account). It was only three days, but fascinating nonetheless - and not enough time to absorb all the Renaissance art.