Firenze, Italia 🇮🇹 Pt. 1
Letter #55: My first impressions of this touristically beloved city and then you'll hear about how much I love grocery shopping.
9/9/23
My flight to Florence left around 6:40am on Thursday, July 20th. There was a layover in Rome which was inconvenient because the flight time would’ve otherwise been under 2 hours, but it was the most time efficient and cost effective option for me to fly rather than take the train. In future discussions, I’d say most people were surprised I went all the way down to Reggio Calabria and then back up to the middle/north of the country. But the US is a huge country so we make that sort of travel all the time. They were also surprised I’d taken the train from Rome to Reggio Calabria—I guess because it was 6 hours long?! But, in general, I got the sense from many Europeans I spoke to over the past 9 months that they disapprove or frequent plane travel as it isn’t environmentally friendly. And I get it—with the ease of the train system here and the relative price difference, flying DOES seems less convenient, and thus easier to make the environmentally friendly choice of traveling by train or bus. Unfortunately, the US isn’t built that way and we rely on flights to get nearly everywhere.
Anyways, I landed in Florence and found the tram that would take me to the city center, dropping me just across from Florence’s main train station, Santa Maria Novella. It’s not like I know how to get tickets and everything for the tram or the bus, but I look for something familiar to what I know from city living, and I watch what others do as well. I bought a ticket from the machine outside the tracks—it was under 2 Euros— and once I got onto the tram (following the crowds to make sure I got on the tram going in the right direction), I noticed other people sticking their tickets into a machine for “validation”. But, in fact, after putting my own ticket into the machine, I don’t think my ticket was actually marked (I wasn’t sure what the validation was supposed to look like), and no one was on the tram to check that everyone had a validated ticket. So, I imagine you could around the city pretty easily without worrying about having a validated ticket.
When I got off the tram at Santa Maria Novella, an Australian woman stopped me from buying another ticket for the bus, saying she had an extra ticket that she never had validated, and was about to take a train to another city, so would no longer need the Florence specific bus ticket. See what I mean? The ticketing system doesn’t seem so strict. I thanked her for the kindness, and walked about 7 minutes or so to find the bus that would take me as close as possible to my AirBnB. Yet the bus stop wasn’t properly marked in the same spot as what I saw on Google Maps, so I mustered the courage to ask a local if I was in the right place. Of course I was not, so he gestured that I needed to walk down to the next block. I’m glad I asked otherwise I’d be standing there in the pounding heat as the buses streamed past. I waited another 7 minutes or so for the bus to come, which wouldn’t be so bad except that the unforgiving heat coupled with the weight of my bags made those 18 minutes or so of transfer feel like FOREVER.
The bus ride into the San Niccolò neighborhood went quickly, and I enjoyed looking out the window at all the beautiful architecture. We crossed over the river, through Santo Spirito, and finally into San Niccolò. I was impressed that this bus could fit down these tiny streets that could barely fit only one full-size car at a time. 😳
I arrived at Marzia’s AirBnB after another 18 minute walk. I was toast after carrying my bags around the city. I messaged her a few times on AirBnB before trying the doorbell…which I also had a ring a few times before she answered.
She came to the door to get me, groggy as she’d just woken up. It was already 12:30pm, but I then learned that she worked in a restaurant in the evenings, so I cut her some slack on the lack of communication upon my arrival. She had said she preferred I arrive earlier in the day rather than later because of her work schedule, so I was grateful I could go straight to the AirBnB after my 10am arrival at the airport.
Staying in an AirBnB room in someone’s home is not my ideal situation for accommodation while I’m traveling, but the prices for hotels and entire AirBnBs in Florence were so high that it felt like the second best case scenario. I was paying about $90 a night for a private room & bathroom, as well as use of the kitchen the huge garden in the back—something that was rare in the city. Even hostels were $50 a night for a bed in a shared room, so paying extra to have some private space seemed ideal for the next 5 days. She did have two other guests staying in another room upstairs (which I wasn’t aware of at first), but they were very kind and it only took me a moment to adjust to the realization that I’d be living among other people for the next 5 days.
Anyways, I was confused at first because I guess she’d been using the room I was to stay in for the past few days since it was on the ground floor and cooler than the rest of the house. That meant it wasn’t clean and ready for me to check in, but at least I could drop my bags, get a refill of water, and use the bathroom before heading out to explore. I’d say the whole check-in process felt a bit unorganized and jarring, but, by now, I know that it takes me at least 24 hours to feel ok with a place, so I just need to remind myself to take a deep breath and give it a minute for me to feel comfortable. This worked with nearly every place I’ve stayed at over the past 10 months, with the exception of cockroach alley on Gili Air Island, or the saddest hotel ever in Ho Chi Minh City.
I was exhausted when I arrived, as I think I had woken up at 3:30am that day for my flight. So the combination of being extremely tired and walking through that unbearable heat had me feeling a bit nauseous, but I chose to make the best of it and explore the neighborhood a bit.
I decided to have lunch at Osteria Antica Mescita San Niccolò, a restaurant Marzia had recommended, known for their traditional Tuscan dishes. The server was odd but fun, and I chose a seat inside in hopes of escaping the heat. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any A/C, but it was still a bit cooler than sitting on the patio. 🤷🏻♀️ I ordered a 1/4 litre of red wine and pappardelle with a pepperoni (red pepper) pomodoro (tomato) sauce. The meal was definitely a bold choice for lunchtime in the middle of July, but I went with it. (Reminded me of one of the worst shifts I ever had in the dead of summer at Legends…those of you that know me well know about the two old women that ordered linguine and meatballs out on the patio😑).
Anyways, the meal was lovely and I switched off between journaling and watching all the other tourists come in to eat—some tourists are so awkward together! Eating in silence and avoiding eye contact with one another, almost seeming miserable to be there together. Sure, the heat’s got everyone down at that particular time, but I feel like I observe that dynamic so often when I travel to super touristy places.🤔
Speaking of touristy places…Florence is hands down the most touristic place I’ve ever visited in my life. It is a relatively small, beautiful city, teeming with ancient architecture and Renaissance art in every direction you look. And yet the streets were PACKED with tourists. I had heard this would be the case in the city center, but this influx of tourists had even spilled over into the funkier outer neighborhoods of San Niccolò and Santo Spirito, just across the Fiume Arno.
Obviously, I was one of the many American tourists contributing to this mass of people, but to be honest, especially on the first day of my stay, I found it super distracting! I heard American English far more than I heard Italian—it was jarring. To be fair, as the servers had mentioned in the Latin American restaurant Hil and I had drinks at in Rome, most locals were on holiday over on the seaside, avoiding the insufferable heat in the middle of the city. So that contributed to the lack of locals I saw walking around…but still. I was shocked at how many tourists this small city could hold.
After lunch I wandered over to Santo Spirito and found respite in a charming little bar where I got a glass of Prosecco and attempted to write some more. But the fatigue was setting in and I was having a hard time feeling motivated to be out and about. So I decided to head home, stopping at a grocery store on the way to pick up some ingredients for the week.
I LOVE grocery shopping in foreign countries. I’m not exactly sure why—it could just be that I like seeing what’s the same (to the US) and what’s different, but I find it a bit thrilling not to be able to read all the signs/labels but still be able to recognize the food. I even love the mystery of buying something and not exactly knowing how it’ll taste—especially cheese! I could happily go to the grocery store or the alimentari every day. The alimentari being a deli and local hangout where you can buy specialty items, beer, wine, local formaggio (cheese), salame, and could have a panino (sandwich) put together.
Something about buying the ingredients and cooking them myself back at the AirBnB makes me feel more like a local, just like anyone else living their daily life in Italy.
I was parched when I reached the grocery store on my way back, and I just so happened to notice that they first thing available in the store was a machine for fresh-pressed orange juice. 😍 I chose a medium size bottle and pressed a button to have the juice made. I immediately chugged half of it. It was so sweet and pulpy and refreshing. Then I grabbed a basket and began walking around the produce department, picking up a peach here, an onion there, and adding them to my basket.
Pretty soon a man that was restocking some items began signaling to me, speaking in Italian. I was a bit startled, I wasn’t sure what I was doing wrong. When he realized I couldn’t understand his rapid speech, he grabbed a piece of fruit, pointed to the number listed on the sign next to the price, and then showed me over to the scale and computer where I had to choose from a list of items, select the number, and have the produce weighed. A sticker printed out and you’re meant to place the sticker on the bag holding whatever it is you’re buying. I was only buying one or two of each thing so I stuck the sticker directly on each item—a cucumber, two peaches, some tomatoes, and a red onion.
I was surprised by this system. In the US, the produce is weighed out at the end of your shopping trip by the cashier. I don’t much mind who does the work—the customer or the cashier—but I didn’t love the fact that you had to put all your produce into plastic bags. I’m sure it drives my mom crazy when I shop at home because I never use the produce bags. 😂 Feels too wasteful to me. At least all the plastic bags in Italy that I’ve seen so far are biodegradable, but still…
I wandered around picking up a hard cheese to use with the pici pasta I’d picked up in Pari, some pre-made ragu al cinghiale (wild boar), a pre-sliced tray of salame, and of course a bottle of red wine. The wine section was the best. Not that I had any idea what to choose from, but the fact that the cheapest bottles under 4 Euros were probably better than any of the Italian wines I would buy back in the States for over $15 blew my mind. The markup to sell an imported bottle for that amount of money in the US means you’re getting a VERY cheap, likely low quality bottle of wine. It’s similar to when you buy fruits and veggies at the farmers’ market, they tend to taste better because they’re seasonally grown and don’t have to travel far to make it into your kitchen. That means they’re picked when they’re ripe, at max flavor, instead of being prematurely picked and then ripened on the truck in transit. These little tidbits are going to change the way I shop when I get back home. 😅
Back to the wine…I chose a bottle of Chianti, completely guessing among the many options of Chianti, making up nearly an entire wall of the wine section. It’s one of the most predominant wine varieties of the area so I knew I couldn’t go wrong (and I’m also not that picky). I got one for around 8 Euros. Thought I’d splurge. 😏
I got back to the apartment around 4:30pm to officially check-in. The bedroom and bathroom had been cleaned and Marzia would be jetting off to work soon. I laid down for a bit to see if I might nap. I maybe fell asleep briefly after reading for a bit, but then decided to get up and start dinner. With the other guests out for the evening and Marzia at work, I’d have the kitchen and the garden to myself. I heated up the pici pasta and the sauce. I sliced up some tomatoes, cucumbers, parsley, and the onion for a salad. I poured out a glass of the Chianti and sat out in the garden to enjoy my dinner.
Marzia had told me that her building used to be an old nunnery, so there was a beautiful fountain and shrine in the back area of the garden. Birds sang happily in the trees above, and her sweet cat sat below, watching them with intent. No doubt she gets herself a bird from time to time.
Marzia had also mentioned that the garden was the perfectly quiet respite from the city, and you could hear the buskers playing music up at the Piazzale Michaelangelo, which was right up the hill from her house. She was right, and it was amazing to hear the crickets chirping, mixed in with the faint sound of live music and cheering from the onlookers, while I enjoyed my dinner in this garden in the middle of Florence. Actually, going forward, I want to make this a prerequisite for what I look for in rentals in the city. If I can cook half my meals while traveling in the city and have a place to enjoy outside, I’ll be less likely to spend the entire day out, and thus spend less money throughout the week. This way I can split my time half and half—half resting back at the BnB, the other half out exploring and eating in restaurants. 😍
I sat out in the garden long after I’d finished eating dinner, reading my kindle, enjoying my wine, and painting my nails. Late in the evening, around 9:30pm, the other AirBnB guests came back, a couple from Norway. The guy brought out a couple bottles of beer and served one to me. We sat in the garden for a couple hours chatting. Eventually Marzia came home from work and we realized it was past midnight so we cleaned up outside and went in for bed.
Hey! Would you like to connect over creativity, self-growth, and problem-solving? Or just to have a virtual glass of wine or mocktail? Please book a time on my Calendly for us to chat! I can’t wait to see you. XOXO.
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🤣🤣🤣You had a run-in with the produce gestapo!