Buongiorno Firenze!

DAY 5: A QUAINT ESCAPE – FLORENCE, ITALY

It was a late afternoon when we had entered the perimeters of Florence. Nice to Florence was a beautiful ride as we past in between several small towns, all with their own distinct features. Although we would not be in Florence for very long, I really wanted to get as much done. As we quickly passed the traffic in the streets, I admired all the old buildings, however one thing shocked me, there was a lot of graffiti. It’s unfortunate as the red, blue and green tags only the walls of buildings ruined the sentimental and historical value of them. We were let off the bus in a small square, named Piazza Del Duomo and needed to make our way, once again, with our luggage to the hotel.

Unlike Nice, this city was crammed with a heap of people walking in every direction. On the sidewalks, the swarm of people walked to the left, as we, with our large luggage, strolled along on the right. When there was a large group that we needed to pass, I yelled “permeso!”, which essentially means, can I pass?, in Italian. It was a Monday afternoon and the restaurants were hoppin’ and boppin’! The little “tratoria’s” at the corner of every street had lines of people that extended along the sidewalk, waiting to buy their fresh pizza and Panini’s. The language was also astonishing. Although I knew Italian fluently, the dialect and beauty of the language really shined when it was all I heard. From the quaint little homes that lined the streets to the smell of fresh bread being made in the wood burning ovens, Florence was a quaint little getaway from the bigger, more modern towns of Italy.

There weren’t many cars in this town, which didn’t surprise me, as it is quite small, most things could be accessed by foot or bus. As we continued to take our little “luggage walk”, I could see that there was plenty of haze that mystified the surrounding parks and streets, which must have meant that it had rained prior to our arrival. We passed church after church and let me say, that they were each very beautiful. One of them, named the Church of Santa Croce, was covered in pink marble along with beautiful detail, outlining Florence’s history. The dome at the back of the church stood tall and sturdy, under the Italian sun that shined a spot light onto this stunning piece of history. It was evident that people gathered far and wide to come visit and if it wasn’t for the line of tourists, eagerly waiting to enter the large doors, I too, would’ve entered.

Later that day, after proceeding to the hotel, we ate a wonderful meal, which included a dish of pasta primavera and some chicken. The pasta could not compare to the ones we have in Montreal. The sauce itself tasted scrumptiously fresh; as if tomatoes were blended, spiced and served- it was wonderful. I savoured each and every piece of pasta as it steamed from the dish. The parmesan cheese melted instantly after I lightly sprinkled it over the red vegetable sauce. As I took my last bite, I made sure to, once more, eat it and let the flavours explode in my mouth, oh, I can still taste the red sauce, the pepper and the carrots. I made sure to wipe the dish down with the piece of Panini that the restaurant provided. I let the soft, warm, indulgent and homemade bread flow right threw me. While pieces of this bread fell into the crevices on my teeth, I couldn’t resist – my tongue ferociously grabbed all that remained, savouring the remains of the delicious meal. When the waiter came to pick up my dish his eyes widened as most of the dishes were spotless, as if they had been washed already; that’s how good it was. As we left, we all said “grazie”.

Later on that evening, we had to go walk around for about an hour before curfew. I was paranoid as there were not many people out and darkness had just flown in on top of the sunny sky. The lights flickered and the wind became cold, as if I had just been dipped into a tub of ice cubes. I walked along the main boulevard where not much was open, only a few liquor stores and the local pharmacies. It was hard to see and admire the beautiful attractions this city had to offer at night, however I managed. I passed a few restaurants with the candle-lit terraces where the smell of freshly baked lasagna reigned over the flat land and the occasional open bakery; however the streets were pretty quiet at night. The rare car that passed hardly made any noise and the people that passed were usually alone or in groups of two; the only thing that could be heard was the wind, penetrating against the windows of the “piccoli” shops.

The next morning, before leaving for Rome, we had a chance to go to the Mercato Centrale. This was one place that really impressed me, and made Florence worth visiting. This large market extended for several long streets and had hundreds of vendors with their little booths and underpriced merchandise. As I walked along the market, I noticed purses, jewellery, scarves, and souvenirs, practically everything one can think of, for cheap prices. The smell of Caprese sandwiches (which consists of tomato and mozzarella) ran through the streets and made my stomach growl as loud as a wolf’s cry. The little, short Italian merchants who smelled of wine and cheese were very persistent, however that was the fun of being at the market: the atmosphere. From the smell of the fresh cheese being fermented to the yelling in Italian, to the smiles on everyone’s faces, to the taste of the gelato that was newly prepared, the market is an amazing experience that I would pry anyone to go to. On our way back, we walked along the Ponte Vecchio (which means old bridge) lined with small jewellery stores,. I couldn’t afford anything there, however just the sight of the water that stood still and reflected the clouds above was exquisite. From here, I stared down the river until the boats became black does in the distance, I stared at the colourful pink, red and white buildings, I stared at the excessive amount of pigeons flying around down near the Mercato area, I stared at the tall bell tower that sounded once every hour and finally, I stared at the people, the Italians, enjoying themselves in this quaint little getaway – if only I had had the time to see more of it!