Florence | Italy
Florence is a city of warmth.
The buildings are painted in tones of muted gold, soft yellow, and subtle orange, colors best seen in the reflection of the Ponte Vecchio on the Arno river at sunset. The people value hospitality and community, greeting you on the street, striking up a conversation in a cafe, or welcoming you into their home for a meal. The food is soft and rich and warm in your belly, like the first bites of a crunchy, creamy Sfogliatine pastry or a fork full of pappardelle pasta.
After years of studying Latin in high school, my parents thought it would be nice for us to put that classical education to use and visit Italy for our first big family vacation. We arrived in Rome, passports in hand and an Italian dictionary in our back pockets. We were overwhelmed, in a good way, with the fullness that Italy brings to life: the intensity of conversation between friends on the street, the striking contrast of colors between marble buildings and bright blue skies, the depth of history in everything you see. I loved our trip to Italy so much that I returned again to Florence as a college study abroad student years later.
Stay
I spent four months living in a six bedroom, twelve person house along the Arno River in Florence. Taking a break from my science-heavy curriculum back home, I studied arts and humanities in the heart of Tuscany. I’d ride my bike to class along the Arno river, passing through cobbled streets and the Piazza della Repubblica, where every morning the local newspaper distributor would shout “Buongiorno” as he threw a paper into my bike basket as I rode past.
Eat
I fell in love with Florence at Mercato Centrale, two stories of fruits, vegetables, fish, and cured meat. My roommates and I would do our best to bargain in broken Italian and then take our full grocery bags home discussing what we should try to cook. Every morning started with a latte macchiato and a flaky Italian pastry. When I wanted a coffee that was a little fancier than what we could wipe up at home, we’d walk through the large department store at one end of the Piazza della Repubblica up the escalators to La Terrazza, a cafe on the roof overlooking the city.
I’d always get lunch at Antico Noe, simple delicious ingredients in the best sandwich shop you’ll ever visit. It deserves this title as much for its food as for Luca, the gentle giant cutting slabs of prosciutto behind a tiny counter, offering you a thimble of red wine while you wait. Friends and I would spend nights huddled together at a big family table at Il Gatto e la Volpe, sharing plates of pasta and pitchers of wine.
Explore
In between classes, I’d take my sketchpad and draw anywhere I could find a seat; perched along the river bank wall drawing the Ponte Vecchio or seated on a little folding chair in the Bargello surrounding myself with silence and statues. I met one of my closest Italian friends while hunched in the portico of the Uffizi, trying to replicate the marbled bodies of Roman gods in my sketchbook and chatting with him about life in Florence. If it was a cool evening, we’d end the day with a hike up to the Abbey of San Miniato al Monte to look over the city while it faded in the Tuscany sunset, hearing the Gregorian chant of monks in the background.
We spent weekends exploring neighboring towns; climbing the Torre del Mangia in Siena for breathtaking views, walking the narrow streets of Pienza sampling varieties of Pecorino cheese, hiking the coast of Cinque Terra. We finished our study abroad program after 6 months and returned back to the U.S., but I kept my memories of Florence close, staying in touch with my Italian friends and making latte macchiatos in my little stove top percolator.
